


SIX

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [6]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Attraction, Blackmail, Break Up, Business, Business Partners, Depression, Drug Dealing, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Friends to Enemies, Hopeful Ending, Illegitimate Children, Jealousy, Miscarriage, Modeling, Murder, Nude Modeling, Partnership, Poor Life Choices, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Struggle, Pregnancy, Relocation, Revenge, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Witness Protection, Women In Power, Women in Love, after hours dlc, estranged family, night club, shitty parenting, something sensible, trevor is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: Lessons learned thus far: That all actions have consequences, that love hurts, that you can not run from who you truly are, and that when kings die, queens are left to conquer.





	1. Captain of the Strip-Ship

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly, truly, and sincerely have no idea where this story is going because I haven't done much planning yet.  
> Just felt like writing the ladies some more.

**_May, 2018._ **  
  
“You know what to do?”  
“Keep my mouth shut and let you do all the talking?”  
“Fuckin’ A right. You got your friend with you?”  
Codeword for ‘concealed weapon’. They’d used a lot of codewords in case anyone (like the FIB) was listening.  
“My ‘friend’ is always with me, Baby; you know that.”  
“Can you seriously not call me ‘Baby’? You know I hate that.” The beam from the headlights in front of the Penumbra made her tear her eyes away from the phone in her lap. “They’re here. You ready?”  
“As ready as I can be for my first drug meet.”  
“I mean,” the younger woman shrugged. “It’s my first one too.”  
Twenty four years old and getting ready to expand her horizons. A legitimate business could only earn so much money before you needed more.  
But setting up a drug meet wasn’t something she’d ever really anticipated.  
Hell, she thought she’d be a scientist, not a criminal.  
  
Tommie Vercetti and Avalon Charles stepped out of the sleek black Maibatsu Penumbra when their business associates arrived. Dressed to the nines, no less.  
It was Avalon’s idea to show up in chic clothing. To give a proper first impression to who would hopefully be a long time supplier.  
Their guests, however, didn’t get the memo. One a gruff looking white woman close to Tommie’s age. Dyed pink hair and a pair of purple lensed aviator sunglasses perched on top of her head. She wore a cotton shirt, torn jeans, and dirty boots along with a denim jacket. The other a rather short man in-- dirty jeans and a dirtier shirt-- in truth, it reminded Tommie of Trevor.  
  
“Which one of y’all is R?” The woman asked, hands on her hips.  
Presumably, she was armed too. There was no doubt of that.  
“Me,” Tommie answered, arms crossing. She could easily reach the holster under her left arm if necessary. “Are you Ace?”  
“That's me,” the woman replied. “You got the cash?”  
“You got the stuff?” Tommie asked.  
"’ _Do I got the stuff,_ ’" Ace chuckled, reaching into her car and producing a duffel bag. "See for yourself." She tossed it onto the dusty ground in front of Avalon, who bent to check inside of it.  
Sure enough, vacuum bags packed full of grade-A marijuana filled the bag to the brim- to the point where the zipper could barely shut once it was done being checked.  
"How's it looking?" Tommie asked.  
"We're sittin' pretty," Avalon replied, standing upright once more with the heavy bag on her shoulder.  
"I'm a woman of my word," Ace smirked, hands folded in front of her belt. She took on the stance at reminded Tommie of military. She wondered if Ace was a veteran.   
"You ever serve in the military?"  
"Marines," Ace replied. "Got kicked out a few years ago. Ironically, for shit like this. You got the cash or what?"  
Tommie chuckled and handed the pink haired woman the backpack full of money. Roughly $20K. “Must make a lot more money doing this, huh?”  
Ace grinned as she peeked through the backpack. “Honey, you have _no_ idea. You just bought some of the absolute _best_ grass in San Andreas too, so I think we’ll be doing business again.”  
“I think we will,” Tommie replied with a polite smile- which dropped the moment she heard an engine approach. No headlights in sight. “Get in the car,” she urgently motioned Avalon toward the Penumbra, taking her pistol from inside her black blazer and pointing it toward Ace. “They fucking brought company!”  
“Fuck you, I didn’t bring anybody!” Ace defended, quickly sliding a pistol out from the back of her jeans and pointing it at Tommie in return. ”’re you a fuckin’ cop or something!?”  
“What fucking cop brings _actual_ money to a meet!?”  
Headlights, as well as red and blue police lights, suddenly encircled the deal.  
“Shit!” Ace gasped, retreating to her car with the intention of escaping.  
“Av, let’s go!” Tommie abandoned pointing her gun at Ace to follow her example.  
Ace’s friend, however, had stayed still, having a gun pointed at Tommie as well- until Avalon drew hers and shot him, without seeming to think about it.  
“ _OHFUCK-_ ” They could hear Ace gasp behind the wheel- just before several harsh voices demanded that they step away from their vehicles with their hands up.  
A warning that was ignored. Ace was the first to speed away, leaving her dying comrade behind as the tires of her unidentifiable car threw up dust in its wake before hauling off- several of the cop cars in the circle following suit.  
“ _FIB, ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!_ ” A man’s voice warned, coming just slightly into the circle, gun pointed at Avalon-- who lost all reason in her state of panic and shot at him too.  
“ _GO!_ ” Avalon shrieked as they barely got into their seats- thank fuck they left the car idling.  
Tommie slammed her foot on the gas and followed through the opening created by the cars that left to pursue Ace.  
  
" _ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?_ " Tommie scolded, speeding down the highway as fast as the car would go- weaving in between traffic to the best of her ability. She wasn’t the stunt driver between the two of them. " _YOU DUMBASS!_ "  
" _HE PULLED A_ _GUN!_ " Avalon defended, eyes wide, hands shaking, felonious bag of marijuana on her lap as she saw the red and blue lights behind them struggle to keep up. " _WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?_ "  
" _NOT FUCKING SHOOT HIM!_ "  
“ _WHAT DO YOU THINK HE WAS GONNA DO TO US, ASSHOLE?_ ”  
“ _WHO CARES!? THE FIB SHOWED UP!_ ” An idea crossed her mind. “You fucking _traitor-_ You set me up!”  
“ _WHAT?_ ” Avalon gasped, looking at the younger woman as if she were psychotic. “What the fuck is wrong with you, _no I didn’t set you up!_ Why would I do that!?”  
“Because for all I fucking know, you’re doing to _me_ what you did to my dad!”  
Avalon looked genuinely offended. “I can’t believe you think that. I thought we fucking trusted each other!”  
“I don’t trust _anyone,_ ” Tommie shot her a glare before looking back at the road. The lights had gained enough distance from them that she was able to pull off of the road and drive up into the hills, parking in between a tree and some bushes, headlights off to be hidden by the night. “Especially a fucking fed who showed up at my doorstep.”  
Sure enough, the lights passed them up. They'd escaped.  
  
Silence, for the rest of the drive back to Los Santos. Not even radio.  
When they parked behind the Vanilla Unicorn, Tommie turned the car off and sat back, reclining the seat back as far as it would go, until she was lying flat-- or as flat as she could be with how her hair was styled into a neat bun.  
“I need a fucking break from this,” Tommie sighed, turning her head to the side so she could untie her hair. She felt like it was pulled back tight enough to give her a headache. “I’m taking a few days off of this bullshit-- _you_ should lay low too. The FIB looked focused on Ace, but they might still have an eye out for the weed.”  
“What about the Unicorn?”  
“She’s gonna be _your_ problem until I get back.”  
“Excuse me- _my problem!?_ ”Avalon groaned. “Why me? You’re the captain of the Strip-Ship, you fucking take the wheel.”  
“I’ve _had_ the wheel for like a year before you even came!” Tommie retorted. “ _You_ wanted in on the business. You’re in, it’s been two months, start fucking _acting_ like a boss and run the goddamn ship while the captain is gone _._ ” Tommie sat up and got out of the car. “Trash the car. Hide the weed. We _never_ left this club tonight. My break starts _now_ .”  
The car door slammed shut and Tommie left without another word, Avalon lingering in the car. Stupefied. “... _Fuck me._ ”  
The thirty two year old sighed, rubbed her eyes despite her makeup smearing over her lids, then got out of the car with the duffel bag. The tires of Tommie’s Cheval Fugitive screeched on the asphalt as she sped out onto the streets of Strawberry. _Melodramatic bitch._ She always had to have the last word in some way or another.  
She was twenty four and the owner of an expanding business- not to mention that she was Tommy Vercetti’s heir.  
Of course she was a little mad with power.  
  
_'A fucking fed who showed up at my doorstep.'  
_ That's all she'd ever be, wasn't it?


	2. Good Luck And Go Fuck Yourself.

“Hi, Avalon,” The older woman formerly known as Amanda De Santa, now Amanda Miller, entered the back office later that evening near the end of the shift. “Did Rosa go home?”  
“Yeah,” Avalon yawned, nudging the half-opened bag of marijuana under the desk with her foot as she spoke. “She said she needed some time off, so it’s just me and you for a while.”   
“Poor kid’s under a lot of stress, huh?” Amanda frowned, leaning on the desk just before catching the contagious yawn. She had assumed that it had something to do with Blake or Lita- or even memories of Trevor. “How long’s she gone for?”   
“She said ‘a few days’, so I’m choosing to interpret that as... about a week, maybe?”   
Amanda nodded, adjusting her ponytail. “She’s been pretty high strung lately.”   
Probably because of Avalon’s appearance two months ago. Tommie had managed the club in a legitimate way until the city of Los Santos had raised taxes and created new ones that seemed to target seedy businesses like the Vanilla Unicorn. Some asshole who ran for mayor had gotten the morality vote. What a fucking buzzkill.   
“Guess I’d better get back out there,” Amanda sighed. “There’s one guy _so drunk_ I won’t be surprised to find him drinking beer straight outta the tap when I get back.”   
Avalon managed a laugh. She had to admit that Amanda was funny at the right times. “Just let me know if you need help throwing anyone out.”   
  
Avalon had, of course, researched Amanda back when she was still in Vice City. After all, her husband at the time was Michael Townley- and the FIB had an inch-thick file on him. She knew the ‘De Santas’ were Tommie’s neighbors, and that Tommie had purportedly been in rehab _twice_ . She’d assumed that Tommie and Michael had been having an affair considering the rocky De Santa marriage as well as how close the girl had been with their daughter Tracey, while her mother had maintained distance over the years-- but apparently that was wrong. _Lita_ Vercetti had the affair. Tommie had been with Trevor Philips instead- one of the FIB’s top ten most wanted. A list that her own father was on as well. Apparently Salamanca women had common taste in textbook psychopaths.   
That discovery only made her have to research Trevor as well. He  _also_ had an inch-thick file with the FIB.   
According to Tommie, he was dead. The FIB knew nothing of that.   
  
The third night Tommie was on vacation, Avalon was in the back office. Twiddling her thumbs with, essentially, zero tasks.   
Tommie kept a printed picture of herself and Trevor inside of her desk.   
Avalon wondered if Blake knew about it. After all, they’d been together for like… A year or something. She supposedly loved Blake.   
… _But what was the fucking appeal anyway?_ Trevor was  d i s g u s t i n g  in Avalon’s opinion. But Rosa talked about him like he was the man of her fucking dreams. She must have inhaled so much cocaine that it just permanently coated her lungs and her brain to make her see someone like _him_ like _that_ even when she was sober.   
Even now, looking in the desk drawer at the picture, Avalon’s face twisted into a look of incomprehension until the sound of the office door creaking open made her gaze shift upward.   
Her jaw dropped when she was met with the sight of her former supervisor.   
FIB Agent Dave Norton.   
“ _Oh, shit-_ ” Avalon gasped, reflexively jumping to her feet so fast that it caused the rolling chair she’d been in to fall over backward.   
“Sit down, Charles,” Norton greeted, wandering further into the office and deciding to snoop around. “I won’t be here for long.”   
“What do you want, Dave?” Avalon asked pointedly, hands on the surface of the desk, making no move to sit down. “I quit months ago- you got my resignation letter, didn’t you?”   
“ _Good luck and go fuck yourself’,_ ” he quoted the last line of her letter. “ _V/R, Avalon Charles’._ Yes, I got your letter. I figured you were pretty pissed off after you lost Vercetti.”   
“I didn’t _lose_ the Vercetti case,” Avalon corrected, glaring daggers at him. “ _You_ took the credit for the whole case after he died. I got nothing for _three fucking years of nonstop work!_ ”   
Dave shrugged, picking up a photo of Tommie and Lita off of the bookshelf on the far side of the room. Tommie had spent a lot of time reading in the office during her shifts, and Avalon often had to tell her not to procrastinate. “I see you’re also working with his daughter,” Dave stated, gesturing with the photo. “Good lookin’ girls. They could be twins.” He set the picture back into place on the shelf.   
“Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want,” Avalon said flatly, entire body tensed. The drug deal had gone bad- and she knew she’d go down for it now that he was there.   
“I just wanted to say congratulations on your new business venture,” Dave said, walking over to stand on the opposite side of the desk. “And to ask you just what the fuck you think you’re doing at a drug deal with a _Vercetti-_ and why you thought it was a good idea to blindly fire at one of our young agents..”   
Avalon’s heart rate multiplied by ten. If she weren’t hanging onto every word coming out of Dave’s mouth, her pulse would be all she could hear.   
“That agent had just gotten done with the recruitment process,” Dave added. “Twenty six years old, fresh faced and motivated- and you shot him right in the fucking kneecap just out of pure luck. He’s out of the FIB. What a waste of funding.”   
Avalon said nothing. Too concerned with how she could lie her way out of a courtroom- she needed a fucking lawyer. And with the way things were going, Tommie would too.   
“So,” Dave continued. “I can either, say, have you and Ms. Vercetti both in prison, or...”   
“ _Or?_ ” Avalon managed to ask. If there was an option B, there might be hope…   
“Or, you repay us for the funding lost on that supplier getting away. It took months to locate her and now she’s in hiding.”   
“What do you want me to do?”   
“I’ll let you know when I think of something,” he said. “The Bureau doesn’t know I’m here. They don’t know about you or Vercetti’s kid. Couldn’t get an ID on either of you. We weren’t even there for you. But I knew you the second you took that shot. You never did look confident with a gun.”   
“I don’t like the idea of killing people.”   
“Maybe _that’s_ why you couldn’t cut it in the FIB.”   
“Get the fuck out of my office, Dave.”   
Dave Norton offered a thin smile, looking as exhausted as he always did. A veteran FIB agent who has seen all types of drama and extortion- and had been the puppeteer more than once. Including now that he had a bargaining chip against Avalon Charles. “I’ll keep in touch. Nice seeing you, Avalon.” He headed for the door, turning once to add: “I like what you’ve done with your hair” before exiting.   
**_FUCK_ ** _._


	3. Underbelly of Paradise

_"I'm in deep with this girl but she's out of her mind, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh... She said 'babe, I'm sorry but I'm crazy tonight', whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh,_ " Tommie sang the Blink-182 song under her breath, eyes closed against the burning, late-spring sun as she floated around in the pool.   
No responsibilities to actually be worried about-- except for if the FIB was looking for her. But if they were, they'd have found her by now. She had been away for four days.  
Michael De Santa walked into the back yard when he saw his step-daughter at the pool. He sighed, kicked off his sandals, and sat at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water.   
He and Lita were married at the beginning of the new year. 19117 Portola Drive had been home for him since then- just next door to his previous home. Now with new inhabitants. He gave Amanda most of the money they got for the property.  
Tracey now lived with Franklin, when she wasn't in school in Vice City.  
Jimmy had moved with Michael- but also had a room at Amanda's place. Though he seemed to prefer the house on Portola because it was simply easier to move in. He got what used to be the guest room. Tommie's room had been uninhabited since she moved out. She visited frequently- like today. Tommie had been on a floating lounger in the middle of the pool when Michael found her, simply soaking up sunshine and not bothering to think of anything else.  
“So you're just gonna come use the pool and that's it?”  
She simply answered with an abrupt “yup.”  
“Not gonna say hi?”  
“I'm saying hi right now,” she gave a small, patronizing wave and a cocky smile to boot. “ _Hiiiiii, Michael!_ ”  
“Yeah, hi,” he flatly replied. The greeting reminded him of when she was 19 and used to greet him in a similar way- only more obviously flirtatious. The daily ' _hiiiiii, Mr. De Santa_ ' dropped off when she met Trevor. Thank fuck it did. It was weird. “Where's Blake?”  
“Working.”  
“Sounds like him.”  
Lita, on the other hand, was downtown at the recording studio with CJ and Ken. Also working. They had a new intern to train. Michael only had to work maybe once every three days.   
“I keep telling him he can just quit his job and work for me."  
“I mean- I get why he wants to keep his job.”  
“Why?”  
“Man’s gotta have _something_ that's just his.”  
“It's not like I'm dominating his life,”  
“Did he say that?”  
… No.   
But that's ridiculous! Just because she made more money and paid the bills didn't mean he would feel like she owned him. That was just childish…  
Although...  
"Maybe I'll talk to him about it sometime," she muttered.   
"Probably a good idea," Michael agreed, moving to stand up and go back inside. "I'm goin' back in. Got some shit to do."   
"'Kay," she replied. "Good luck on your shit."  
He didn't spend much time alone with her. He couldn't stand to after he'd killed Trevor.  
A secret she would never find out about.   
She left later without a goodbye. There were plans to be over for dinner that night anyway.   
  
Being rich meant having money to spend on whatever you want. So her next order of business was 'ink therapy'.  
She finally made the time to cover up the scarring on her shoulder and firearm where she'd been shot two years ago. Apparently it took time before scars were ready to cover.   
Hector Garcia was her artist of choice- because she liked his artwork and he made good conversation.  
"How's your mans doin'?" He asked, swapping out the shader needle for the liner on his machine.  
"Good, good," Tommie replied, admiring the freshly added coloring on the funeral lilies of her memorial piece. Lavender colored. Just because the color looked nice. Blake never knew the meaning of the tattoo- she told him it was simply an art piece. "Got promoted recently. He's in upper management now. Got himself a raise n' stuff."  
"So you guys getting married soon?"  
"Doubtful."  
"Why's that?'  
"It was bad enough for him to bring me home to his mom, just imagine the panic attack she'd have if we got engaged. I don't think I'm the type of person other people should get married to."  
"She _still_ doesn't like you? That's a little fucked up," Hector positioned the stencils for the coverup pieces over her scars. "This look good to you?"  
Tommie snickered and shrugged with her free arm. "Right? I mean, I punched out her other son once, my mom told her to fuck off, I got ink up to my titties, I own a strip club- what's _not_ to love? And yeah, good to go."  
As Hector got to work on her left arm, Tommie gritted her teeth. Tattooing over scars either hurt more or she tricked herself into feeling it more.  
Still- a few hundred dollars for her preferred type of therapy made it worth it.   
  
"You think I should go back soon?" Tommie asked from the shower. Blake was at the mirror, combing his hair into place. They had a couple of hours in between him coming home from work and planning to go to Lita's-- which led to him practically throwing Tommie into their bed the moment he walked into the door. "I haven't heard from Avalon since I left. I dunno if the club burned down or something." The hot water stung her fresh tattoos- like the worst sunburn ever. Still, she carefully rinsed off the sticky plasma that had seeped through her skin.   
"Why hire her if you didn't think she can keep the club running?"  
"She knows too much about the business for me to just fire her." True in more ways than one.  
Blake laughed, thinking she was just being facetious.   
Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. Avalon's selfie came up on the screen.  
"Speak of the devil," Blake said. "She's calling right now. Want me to answer?"  
"Nah, just let it ring," Tommie replied, shutting off the water and pulling her dripping wet hair behind her shoulders. "I'll call her back in a minute."  
  
 _"Hey,_ ** _asshole!_** _"_ Avalon's irritable tone was unmistakable even on her voicemail. _"Call me the second you get this, we have things to talk about."_ _  
_And that was it.  
Sighing and rolling her eyes, Tommie called Avalon back. She and Blake were soon to leave the apartment now that she was dressed and ready.   
The phone was answered on the first ring. _"Oh, she finally decided to grace me with her attention today,"_ Avalon greeted.   
"What's so important that you bother me this late in the day? Did our _friends_ come get you?"  
 _"No,"_ she replied. It most likely wouldn't be far off for the FIB to arrest them both. _"But they're still trying to make it happen."_ _  
_"Shit."  
 _"I think you should come down tonight so we could talk about all this."_  
"I'm supposed to have dinner with my mom tonight!"  
 _"Well fuck R, I didn't know dinner was more important than our friends who are coming to see us very_ ** _fucking_** _soon if we don't plan for their arrival."_  
" _Shit!_ " Tommie hissed, pulling the phone away from her ear. _"Fuck! This is what I fucking get for working with you!_ " Bringing the phone back to her ear. "Fine. I'll be there. Give me a few minutes to break it to everyone that I'm missing a family dinner. Again."   
  
The drive to the club was tense despite Tommie being the only one in the car. She had to call Lita and tell her that something came up at work. She and Blake were both disappointed.  
And it made Tommie feel like an asshole.   
When she pulled up and parked beside Avalon's Buffalo, Tommie took a deep breath to try to rid herself of any… residual feelings of aggression.  
She did not want to bring that into her club. The girls all thought she was nice. She didn’t want to ruin that.  
Especially since not a single soul in the Vanilla Unicorn knew about how she’d nearly slit a woman’s throat in the bathroom once. She intended to keep it that way.  
  
“Hi, Tommie!” One of the girls, Layla, greeted her after she entered. Layla had been aside, dressed in her day clothes and taking money out of the ATM. “Are you back from vacation already?”  
“Hi Lay,” Tommie replied. “I’m just here to check in with Avalon, have you seen her?”  
“She’s in the back office,” Layla replied.  
“Thanks,” Tommie nodded, heading for the back office and calling “Have a good night!” over her shoulder.  
A few other girls greeted her on the way back toward the office- whoever was on shift that night anyway.  
And then she let herself into the office, finding Avalon smoking a cigarette.  
“The fuck do you think you’re doing smoking in here!?” Tommie’s features inadvertently shifted into the same look her mother gave her when she found out she was still smoking weed. “This is my office!”  
“It’s _our_ office,” Avalon corrected, smudging out the tip of the cigarette onto the heel of her shoe. Expensive thigh-high boots. Designer. Treated like knockaround shoes because their income made everything seem cheap. Tommie was just as guilty- having bought a pair of thousand dollar red-bottomed heels and walking through the dust of Blaine County in them. At the botched drug deal, for example. “We gotta talk about the deal that went bad.”  
Speak of the devil. “Don’t suppose the FIB knows who we are?” Tommie asked, sitting in one of the other chairs.  
“Something like that,” Avalon muttered. “I got ID’d. By my former supervisor Dave Norton.”  
“Dave Norton,” Tommie echoed. “Why does that sound familiar?”  
“He replaced that cocksucker Steve Haines on Underbelly of Paradise a few years ago.”  
“ _THAT’S WHERE!_ ” Tommie gasped, pointing a finger at Avalon when the information formed a more complete picture. “That guy was your _supervisor!?_ ”  
“Yeah, and he fucking _came_ here!” Avalon clapped back. “To tell me I owe him a fucking favor for shooting one of the fucking fresh recruits in the goddamn kneecap at the deal!”  
Tommie immediately took on a hostile tone as well. “Oh. So. You mean to tell me we could’ve avoided all of this shit if I never gave your dumb, jumpy ass a fuckin’ gun? Great! That’s fucking fantastic!”  
“Will you shut the fuck up for two minutes- for once in your life!?” Avalon snapped, slamming her hand onto the desk. “He wants a favor. I don't know what it is. But you are gonna need to back me up- because Dave knows who you are. He put the pieces together. If I go down, they'll bring you down too.”  
“ _FUCK!_ ”  
“Yeah. Fuck.”  
Tommie paced the room, fist balled and placed against her lips as if it were the only thing silencing her. She reminded Avalon of a predator trapped in a cage when she did this. Ready to tear into the first moving thing she could find. “Do you have any dirt on him?”  
“I think so,” Avalon said. “He used civilians to do his dirty work a few years ago along with Steve Haines.” They thought they had that secret contained. Agent Haines had threatened to have her blacklisted if she ever mentioned it to another soul in the FIB.  
But Steve Haines was dead. What could he do?   
“Yeah,” Tommie nodded. “Okay. We can work with that.”  
Ever the mastermind, Tommie had already come up with a plan. Avalon was always impressed by her ability to improvise.   
“We keep our heads down,” Tommie began, still pacing. “We run the business, look legit. We do Norton’s favor. But we cut him off at __one fucking favor. If he tries to sell us out to the FIB, we take the old fucker with us.”  
“We can do that,” Avalon nodded.   
“We can fucking do that!” Tommie agreed. “Vacation’s over. Time to get back to work.”

 


	4. Simon

The new plan was to take turns on who was managing. They switched every other day, alternating weekends.  
The Unicorn was successful, as always. Business flowed easily and without the help of drug money. Despite government officials trying to limit availability of exotic dance clubs.  
Tommie and Avalon had agreed to taking job applications to breathe some new life into the club-- and maybe work shifts for their employees to have more free time as well.  
Their logic was that if they took care of their dancers, they would do the same if the time came. The new help would need to know that as well. Which meant vetting, now that the FIB was watching.  
  
As always when she was on shift, Tommie had a drink on her desk. Amanda never made comments on her obvious alcoholism, but Lita often did. She always wished Tommie would give up drinking. An unrealistic goal, in Tommie’s opinion. She could either drink to deal with her numbness or go to therapy- and she didn’t consider therapy an option anymore with how ineffective it had been in the past.  
Tommie's keyboard clicked as she drummed her fingers against it. Not enough pressure to type out any words. Just... Thinking.  
She'd been speaking with Lester on a secured server. His idea for better business relations since he was, essentially, her accountant. And it was very effective. If the FIB was listening, they would only hear typing- and that wasn't exactly incriminating.  
A knock on the door made her shift her gaze to the door for a moment. But when no one entered, she knew it was neither Avalon or Amanda.  
She hit the power button on the laptop and folded it shut before calling "Come in!"  
One of her strippers- Rita- entered with a young man who seemed to struggle not to stare at the scantily clad woman. "Hi, Tommie," she said. "This gentleman wanted to talk to you about contacting someone."  
"Okay," Tommie shrugged. Hesitant. Who could he possibly want to speak to through her? __  
_… What if he’s with the FIB?_ "Uh-" she glanced between the two. "Mind if we get the room to ourselves?"  
Rita excused herself, leaving her alone with the stranger. He looked close to her age. Give or take a year or two. Messy hair and piercing brown eyes. Tall. Lean. A little rough looking but cute- in her opinion. She had unconventional taste in men.  
She felt like she knew him- maybe from school? Had he been a customer before?  
She stood up out of her chair to reach over the desk and shake his hand. "Tommie Vercetti. What can I do for you?"  
"Uh-" he seemed not to know how to answer her. "I was told that Trevor Philips came around here a lot. I actually heard from a girl who used to work here that he owned the place."  
" _I_ own this club," she flatly replied, settling back into her seat, hands folded on the desk. "I have for a while now."  
"So you bought it from Trevor?"  
_Nope._ "Yup."  
"I wanted to know if, maybe, you've seen him or if you know where I can find him...?"  
"Haven't seen him lately," Tommie replied. She kept Trevor's fate vague to any stranger who ever mentioned him. "Does he owe you money?"  
"In a way." He shrugged.  
"How much?"  
"I was hoping I could talk to him directly- do you know where I can find him?"  
Tommie frowned. "Have you tried Blaine County?"  
The mention of the name made her wonder whatever became of Trevor's disgusting trailer out in the desert. Maybe it had been demolished or sold. Maybe it just sat and rotted away in the hot sun.  
"What'd you say your name was?"  
"Sorry, I didn't say-- I’m Simon," he replied.  
She never heard Trevor mention the name when he was alive. "Well, I don't know where you can find him," she said. "But if I see him, I'll tell him 'Simon came by'."  
"He doesn't _know_ me, though-" Simon paused. "We've never met before... I'm his son."  
Tommie felt like she was going to be sick with anxiety. " _Really?_ " The idea of it just made him start looking like Trevor to her. His chocolatey brown eyes, peachy skin, lean build, full lips, his jawline, his nose-- his messy brown hair that would likely recede into the most un-fucking-fortunate hairline on Earth. But he was young and healthy and without any of Trevor’s scars or crude, faded tattoos.  
_Oh my fucking God..._  
"Yeah," he offered an awkward laugh and a crooked smile. "My mom told me if I wanted to meet him he was probably somewhere out West. So I forgot about it for a while and started school out here. Then I overheard the name. This girl in one of my classes said she used to work here and mentioned him because she thought he was fuckin’ weird. So I asked the her about him, and figured- ‘Hey, San Andreas is pretty much as West as it goes, so…’"  
Fuck, he even smiled like him.  
It made her feel awful. Like she was cheating on Blake just by feeling the warmth of nostalgia...  
"I think you might find him in Blaine County," Tommie said, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. Her face felt hot with embarrassment. "He's not here."  
Simon went quiet for a noticeable half-second. He must have seen it in her face that she knew where Trevor really was.  
"Well... Thanks. Tommie, was it?"  
"Yeah. No problem."  
"Well in case you do see him-" Simon persisted, hoping she would slip. He took a business card off her desk and scrawled his phone number onto the back. "You can shoot me a text or something."  
"I'll do that." She lied, taking the phone number and sparing it a look _‘SIMON MEYER’_ written above it in messy handwriting. "Don't suppose you wanted to meet him because he owes eighteen years of child support?" She tried to lighten the mood with a joke.  
Simon offered a small, polite chuckle. "More like I wanted to see what I might've turned out like if he was around. And maybe a little child support compensation never hurt anybody. Got a college tuition to pay!"  
Tommie nodded. She wanted to tell him the truth now that she knew the situation. But she couldn't bring herself to it. "I'll ask around for him," she said. "I can give you a call by next week... Are you staying in town?"  
"Yeah, Simon replied. I'm going to ULSA now. Room and board and all that good shit."  
A Philips who went to college. Now there's a break in the cycle. Looks like Trevor's progeny did have a chance at a normal life...  
She wondered what may have been if her own pregnancy had carried to term.  
"Uh-" she stopped him on his way out. "Do you need a job?"  
"I mean, if you're offering..."  
"I am," she replied. "If you're Trevor's son, then I have your back. I have a bouncer position available. One of our guys just recently quit and we’re hiring... The-- The pay is good!"  
Simon smiled. It made Tommie’s chest feel uncomfortably tight. "Sounds like I'm applying then."  
"Consider yourself hired," she said, managing a smile back.  
She gave him her phone number, asked that he started tomorrow evening, then sent him on his way with a lie about having to get back to work.  
And when she was alone, she looked into her desk drawer at the picture of Trevor and herself.  
“Oh my _god--_ How many fucking people did you knock up!?” She asked his printed smile.  
With a sigh, she felt all of her energy slip from her lungs.  
Hunched over her desk.  
She told him to search Blaine County.  
But what would he find?


	5. Pink

Sitting at the bar at Pitchers, Avalon drummed her fingers on the countertop and stared into her drink. Wednesdays were Ladies’ Night- half off mixed drinks and exclusively women dancers tonight.  
You would think that Avalon would’ve had enough strippers in her life. At least she could flirt with these women.  
The pink lighting at the bar left everything with a rosy tint, and Avalon being tipsy only made her smile at the thought of ‘seeing the world through rose colored glasses’.  
  
The woman who sat next to her was alone as well.  
  
No wedding ring.   
  
Her short hair framed her face like a painting. The sleeves of her crop top had been cut off, and Avalon could see that she was wearing a rainbow patterned sports bra underneath.  
Fuck it. She was cute.   
“Hi.”  
The other woman looked at her, and Avalon noticed her eyes widen ever-so-slightly into an attentive look when she saw Avalon. "Hi," she seemed to struggle to find the next thing to say. "Are you-- You here alone?"  
"I am," Avalon smiled back, leaning herself against the bar in a way that purposely accentuated her curves. Years of pretending to hit on men had left her with an edge. “I’m Avalon.”  
The other woman seemed taken aback by Avalon’s confidence. If it weren’t for the pink lighting, it would be obvious that she was blushing- unused to being _directly_ flirted with. “Auri.”  
  
Staring at Auri’s phone number in her contacts, Avalon had felt dreamy all day at work the next time she was on shift. Forget about the FIB, the cute girl at the gay bar had been texting her for about an hour now!  
_“Where do you work?”_   
Avalon wrote back _“I work at the strip club in Strawberry. I co-own.”_ __  
_“I used to go there with some friends. Whenever we did something big where I work, we went for drinks.”_  
_“Maybe I’ll see you around here sometime.”_ __  
_“Maybe you will! ;D ”_  
“-valon? _AVALON._ ”   
Tommie’s voice pulled her out of her daydream. She’d been recounting the last few minutes at Pitchers, where she and Auri had been so drunk that they’d kissed goodnight. “Wh-What?”   
Tommie frowned, unused to seeing the older woman so unfocused. It was usually the other way around. “You good?”  
“Great,” Avalon simply replied.  
The younger woman looked apprehensive. “You’ve been zoned out all day, I was starting to think maybe Norton came back here.”  
Avalon shook her head, idly playing with a strand of her straightened hair. She could still remember the softness of Auri's short, pink hair between her fingers when they kissed. “Just had a good night last night.”  
“Get lucky?”  
“Met somebody nice.”  
  
_“GUESS WHOS GONE!!!!!”_ __  
_“HOME!!!! Not gone”_  
Tommie read the texts late in the morning. Today was her day off and she was debating a snippy reply about being asleep-- until she saw that the message was from Tracey- who hadn’t been home in about two months.  
“Oh shit-” she muttered, sitting up in bed, eyes squinted against the bright (although completely dimmed) screen of her phone. Blake wasn’t in bed anymore- he’d left for work a couple of hours earlier.  
She opted to call instead of texting, quickly tapping away at her screen and holding the phone to her ear.   
_“Rosa!”_  
“Trace!” She happily greeted. “You’re home so suddenly, what’s going on? Did you just graduate or something!?”  
_“I was just feeling homesick,”_ Tracey slyly replied.  
“Just missed the husband, huh?” Tommie smirked, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.  
_“Pretty much,”_ Tracey agreed. __“I was missing you too- I wanted to meet up with you today. Are you busy? Is Blake?”  
Not even a little. “I got nothing going on. Blake’s at work.”  
__“Okay- can you come over? I wanna seeeeee yooooouuuuu!”  
Tommie smiled. “Yeah yeah, I guess I wanna see you too… _I gueeesssss!_ ”  
  
She spotted Lamar’s car as well as Tracey and Franklin's when she pulled up to the house in Vinewood Hills.   
Not only that, but she saw Michael’s and Amanda’s cars parked on the street as well.  
“Everybody’s here,” Tommie thought aloud, cutting the engine of the Fugitive and leaving to enter her friends’ house.   
The sound of laughter greeted her and brought her comfort as she made her way toward the living room.   
“Guess whoooo!” Tommie announced herself as she entered.  
“ _Rosaaaaaa!_ ” Tracey was the first to greet her, jumping out of her seat, pink hoodie drooped around her elbows as she wrapped her arms around Tommie’s shoulders and squeezed her as tight as she could. “I’m so glad you could make it, now everyone’s here!”  
And she meant _everyone._ Franklin, Lamar, Lita, Michael, Amanda, and Jimmy (who was playing tug of war with Chop while giving Tommie a wave hello).  
Lita smiled when Tommie came over to her. “Nice of you to join us on a Saturday morning,” she said, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s shoulders.  
Tommie rolled her eyes, observing as Tracey and Franklin stood up together on the other side of the room. All smiles.. “You know I like sleeping.”  
“Okayokay-” Tracey couldn’t stop grinning, commanding the attention of the room and taking her husband’s hand. “So We’ve been thinking lately about me going to school.”  
“You’re not dropping out,” Michael interrupted.  
“No, Daddy, I’m not dropping out!” Tracey groaned.  
“We were thinkin’ more about the long distance thing,” Franklin specified. “Seein’ each other every other month ain’t exactly fun.”  
“So we were thinking I’d _transfer_ ,” Tracey added, bouncing anxiously on the heels of her tennis shoes. “I only have a few classes left before graduation. And it would just be easier to be home with family considering __we’re having a baby! ”  
Elated gasps filled the room, and everyone rushed toward the couple to congratulate them.  
Except for Tommie.  
Who stood by, jaw dropped.  
Reliving a nightmare.


	6. Grassroots - Avalon

It wasn't until they saw each other in daylight that Avalon recognized her.  
"You're Ace."  
Auri's expression dropped. "You're... You're that lady workin' with R. I thought you looked familiar."  
Awkward silence followed, sitting across from each other in the restaurant they'd agreed to get breakfast in.  
"So... Did you bring the FIB?"  
"No," Avalon replied, eyes downcast. "I thought you did."  
"Well I didn't," Ace flatly replied. Looking angry. "Fuck. Of course. I meet someone cool and she shot one of my fuckin' growers and knows too much about me." She began to scoot out of their booth. "Y'know what- let's just forget all this and-"  
"Auri," Avalon stopped her. "I haven't told anyone. R doesn't even know about me and you. She doesn't _have_ to know."  
Ace stopped, seeing that Avalon had set her soft, warm hands on the arm she'd laid on the table. "... Okay."  
"We're both in the business," Avalon noted. "I won't sell you out."  
"How do I know that?"  
"Because we sold your stuff already. And it's making money. If you'd let me, I could set it up so we continue to do business."  
Ace frowned, moving back into her previous spot on the middle of her seat. "You gotta be honest with me from here on out."  
"I will be."  
"So then tell me _exactly_ who you are."  
So Avalon told her everything- excluding Tommie's relation to her father.  
  
Avalon stood back as Ace unlocked all three mechanisms on the door.  
The warehouse was unassuming. Just an old, rusted building on the side of the highway.  
"It ain't much, but it's mine," Ace warned, having to put her weight into turning the deadbolt at the bottom. "The only reason I'm even showin' you this is because you're in the business. And 'cause even though the FIB crashed the party before, we _did_ complete our transaction."  
"The weed sold well," Avalon noted. "A few people mentioned it being better than their own local dealers."  
"'Cause I grow my ganja with _love_ , baby," Ace winked, opening the door and stepping aside with a motion for Avalon to go inside.  
She could only see purple light around the corner from where she stood. Ace stepped in behind her and flipped a switch on the wall before letting the heavy steel door fall shut behind her. An electric hum- and then the room was illuminated by bright fluorescent lighting that drowned out the purple glow of the grow room next door.  
The entryway wasn't much to look at. Security monitors, a few pieces of equipment like plant food, a ladder, and a spare watering hose.  
"Right this way," Ace laid a hand on Avalon's lower back and led her along further into the farm. The charming gesture made Avalon's heart thump in her chest.  
The purple lighting hurt her eyes when they were under it. The room was packed with tall marijuana plants growing in a neat grid- spanning from all four corners and leaving very little room to walk in between them.  
"God damn, you weren't kidding about being busy," Avalon gaped, fingertips grazing some of the healthy leaves as Ace led her further toward the back of the grow house.  
"This takes up a lot of my time," Ace confirmed. "My ex and I broke up because of it."  
"Did she know you were doing all this?"  
"She did. She's in the game too. But she does strictly contract work. I tag along sometimes. The pay is good, and I like flyin' the planes, but I like relaxin' work like this waaaay more."  
Avalon smirked. "Into gardening, huh?"  
"You better believe it."  
  
They reached the back room of the operation. Where the plants were hung from the ceiling and dried for packaging. Ace's staff wasn't there today, so the place was just quiet and smelled like skunk.  
"And this is the command center," Ace said, gesturing to a laptop on a table against the wall. "It don't take much more than this to run the business. I got a guy who helps me keep it all in flow. Other than that it's easy enough."  
"I like it," Avalon replied. "It's simple but it works..." She noticed a cot made on the other side of the room. "Spend a lot of nights here?"  
"From time to time," Ace replied, sitting in the rolling chair in front of the laptop. "Actually- most of the time these days. Home in Sandy Shores is a lil' more... Empty."  
"Do you live alone?"  
Ace nodded. "I have for a while. My parents moved to Venturas after I came home from the Corps- so I've been on my own since then."  
Avalon came closer to her, standing between Ace's legs and setting her hands on her shoulders. "Must be lonely..."  
Ace's hands found Avalon's hips and she moved herself closer to the edge of the seat. The older woman bent slightly to kiss her on the forehead. "It can be... Why'd you leave the FIB?"  
"A black woman's efforts getting swept under the rug by white men."  
"Doesn't surprise me."  
"Didn't surprise me either," Avalon flatly replied, fingers running through the soft, pink locks of Ace's hair.  
Ace sighed softly. Yearning for more loving gestures just like that. "What _does_ surprise me is how easy you left it all behind. You had an entire life."  
"Well... Didn't you have an entire life as a Marine?"  
"In a way. What about your family back in Vice City?"  
Avalon only shook her head. "My Auntie only wanted me as an extra set of eyes and ears. She didn't exactly fight very hard to keep me when I said I'd leave."  
"Fuck..." Ace muttered. "I'm sorry."  
"I'm not," Avalon replied, lips stretching into a smile when Ace looked up at her with her pretty blue eyes. "I think I ended up somewhere good."  
Ace bit her lip- just for a quick second before standing up and capturing Avalon's lips in a kiss. Arms around the older Haitian woman's waist, she dominated the kiss and even deepened it.  
Avalon smiled against Ace's soft lips, arms snaking around her shoulders.  
"Y'know, the cot's pretty comfy," Ace muttered. "I think we could both fit."  
Avalon let slip a giggle, feeling heat building in her cheeks. "I mean, if you think we can..."


	7. Kids

Only Franklin and Lamar understood why she froze for a millisecond- even if no one else had noticed.  
"Oh my God..." The words slipped out as if on their own and her hand briefly moved toward her own stomach.  
She wanted to die... Before she came back to reality just in time to put on a smile and rush in to give her best friend a tight hug. "Tracey, that's so exciting, I'm _so_ happy for you!"  
It felt fake. And she hated herself for it. She _wanted_ to be happy for Tracey and Franklin, she really did. But it was overshadowed by the agony of having lost an entire planned out future in the span of a week.  
And the guys saw it. She could read their expressions.  
"Ohhh thank you so much, Rosa!" Tracey beamed, oblivious to the tremor in her friend's body. "Swear to God, you're gonna be its godmother!!"  
No one else had ever found out about the pregnancy. Only three surviving people knew: Franklin, Lamar, and Blake.  
Tommie excused herself shortly after, bumming a smoke off of Michael when Lita wasn't looking before taking herself outside.  
She didn't even end up smoking it. Just rolling the cigarette between her fingers and thinking of every mistake she'd made in her life- getting pregnant, above all else. Even if it wasn't really her fault.  
"Ay, Rosa!" Lamar called, having followed her outside. "You okay? You cool?"  
"Oh, I'm fuckin' _awesome,_ Lamar. L.D. Long Dick. I'm fucking  _chill._ "   
The edge in her voice made him lean away from her a bit. "Well shit, you don't sound chill to me."  
"Do I fuckin' _ever_ , though?" She retorted. "Just-" She paused and took a deep breath, as if she'd taken a long drag from the cigarette. She needed a drink. "I'm good, okay? This is really sudden but I'm okay. Or... I _will_ be."  
"You sure?"  
"Work has me stressed out." A pitiful, obvious lie. "We can talk more about this later, okay? Just-- don't tell Franklin about this. Please."  
Lamar rarely ever looked down. But this was obviously a tough moment for him. She couldn't recall the last time she'd ever seen him look so sad. "Don't do anythin' fuckin' stupid."  
"I won't," Tommie promised. "I got all my stupid shit outta my system, remember?"  
Lamar didn't quite believe her, but he knew that she could never lie to him. Never had. So with a tired sigh, he held his arms out. "Bring it in, Ro."  
With a tight smile, Tommie obliged. Giving him a tight squeeze around the middle to assure him that she would be fine.  
With the excuse of having to go to work, she left shortly after- and chose to look into something she had been thinking about for a few days.  
  
_"Have you heard anything about Trevor?"_ Simon's text came around the time she had entered Blaine County, and she read it after she parked.   
_"I'm still asking around. I'll let you know once I have any kind of answer."_ Was her answer.  
She'd been neglecting to speak to him for well over a week now. Even though he worked for her now. Amanda had even noticed him, and Tommie offered to buy her silence on the matter.  
Avalon still had no idea of who their newest employee was. She didn't need to.  
The dirt was so dry that it was dust. The same dust coating the windows of the trailer and the rickety front porch.  
Just as she remembered it.  
Tommie hadn't seen Trevor's trailer in four years. The mess of garbage in the yard could've been the same junk that was there before for all she knew. It's not like Trevor took care of his home. Before or after her stay there.  
Still, it felt like just yesterday that she last walked up those stairs.  
The place still reeked of meth even to this day. The smell simultaneously made her nostalgic and sick.  
In fact, it was so strong that it seemed recent.  
Odd...  
The sound of glass being shattered to her right made her nearly jump out of her skin, hand automatically moving to the 9mm tucked into the back of her pants. Only to see a beer bottle having been thrown out of the window of the trailer. Someone was inside. Partying by the looks of it. Now that the glass was broken, she could hear the sound of a shitty monaural speaker inside playing Channel X.  
"Mother _fucker_ -" she muttered, turning back to the door and knocking hard. " _Blaine County Sheriff! Open up!_ " She shouted. A trigger for panic to erupt inside the trailer.  
About a dozen or so people scattered from inside, going so far as to break and climb out of the rest of the windows. Abandoning their liquor, drugs, and meth lab setup. She had to step aside when a group of tweakers threatened to trample her on their way out the door and into the street.  
Only three remained when the chaos was done. Either too drunk or too high to even get up and run- all of them passed out and breathing evenly. She'd kick them out when they were conscious.  
The sound of the bed creaking in the back room made her groan. Annoyed and inconvenienced.  
She had to go break up whoever was having sex on Trevor's bed.  
But... She didn't want to go inside.  
Gun pointed upward, Tommie squeezed the trigger and made a brand new bullet hole in the ceiling.  
_BANG!_  
The creaking halted immediately with a muffled " _WHATTHEFUCK_ -"  
Tommie suppressed a giggle at the sound of clothing being speedily put on, several thudding footsteps toward the bedroom door, then a familiar overly-pierced face running out the bedroom and heading for the door.  
" ** _WADE_**." Her voice froze him in place, still struggling to pull on his pants and keep them held up.  
"Rosa?" He asked, realizing that he'd seen her before. "What're you doin' out here?"  
"Mostly just wondering what the _fuck_ you're doing with Trevor's place." She noticed that he was the only person to leave the bedroom. "... Was anyone else even in there with you?"  
"No?"  
She winced. "So all that squeaking was you _alone_... _?_ " Yikes. "Never mind, I don't wanna know... Where the fuck is Ron?"  
The accordion door for the bathroom slid open to reveal Ron inside, sitting on the toilet with his pants on, meth pipe in hand. He'd been too afraid to leave when the gun went off. "Present."  
Tommie sighed, suddenly feeling _so_ fucking tired. Idiots exhausted her. And she suddenly found herself surrounded by them. No wonder Trevor was so aggressive toward them. "Alright. You two were Trevor's morons. But Trevor's gone and you're clearly in need of competent leadership. So you're gonna clean this whole fuckin' place out for me. I mean _really_ empty it out. I want an open floor plan! I'm gonna go get a beer." She turned on her heel, shoving her gun back into the waistband of her jeans. The bar behind the trailer looked open when she drove up, despite it being early afternoon.  
"Why do _we_ gotta clean it?" Wade whined. "You ain't the boss of us."  
She paused, body half-cocked to face them. "Everything that was his is mine now- including the two of you," she insisted. "... Or do I need to show you what he taught me about leadership?"  
No answer. Both too cowardly to see what that meant.  
"That's what I thought," she said, patting them both on the shoulders and walking in between them to go to the door. "See you boys in about an hour, then!"  
  
Walking back up to the trailer, Tommie found Ron and Wade jamming Trevor's filthy old furniture into the previously unused garage.  
"How goes it?" She called as she entered the perimeter of the fence.  
"This is the last piece!" Ron called back, with one last forceful shove of the ruined kitchen table- so that it would stay propped up against the old couch.  
"That's it?" Tommie asked. "Everything's out? Junkies and all?"  
"They were first ta go!" Wade said, brushing dust off of his clothes.  
"Let's take a look, then," Tommie entered the trailer, Ron and Wade in tow. She took a look around to see that they'd done their part. Everything was out except for the bare bones of the place. The only other things remaining were the posters on the walls, the refrigerator, and the frame for Trevor's bed.  
"This is good," she said, turning to look at the whole room. "Good job, morons, I really appreciate you both. Go home."  
"You don't want anything else?" Ron asked.  
"This is all I needed. Trailer's mine now. I don't need to see either one of you anymore. Have a good life and, uh, _don't overdose_."  
  
Finally alone.  
The place seemed smaller somehow now that it was empty.  
"You'd probably wanna kill them both after that," she muttered, as if some part of his spirit remained there and could hear her. "I would if I were you."  
Tommie sighed and leaned against the doorway to the bedroom.  
They used to sleep together here.  
Drank together, smoked together, laughed, cried, fought, fucked... Right here. In this room.  
"Shiiiiiiiiit," she sighed, trying her hardest not to let the residual feelings affect her. And failing. "... I fucking miss you, you complete asshole."  
Her phone chimed in her pocket.  
A text from Blake. _"How's work going?"_  
Tommie felt bad for lying to him. But it was a necessary evil. _"Not bad. It's looking like I'll be home for dinner."_  
From Sandy Shores to Los Santos was three hours. Just in time to get home and drive with him to his mom's house for dinner.  
  
Sharon never did like Tommie.  
That much was obvious by her apprehensive avoidance of talking about Tommie's personal life too much.  
She never asked about the club. Or her income. She just always saw Tommie drinking with dinner.  
Just like tonight. An obvious alcoholic.  
"Blake, tell me more about work," Sharon began. "I've been bragging about your promotion to everyone at the office all about it." Sharon was a dental hygienist. Apparently her favorite thing to do with other hygienists was gossip.  
"It's not much different than what I did before," Blake smiled. "Just get paid a little more and I don't have to make coffee or copy papers for my boss anymore."  
His younger brother Tyler wasn't even listening, instead staring down at his phone. Twenty four years old and working at LifeInvader as a developer. (Still no dislike button, despite Tommie's frequent suggestion.)  
He occasionally stole glances at Tommie. She returned them with looks of displeasure. He had a crush on her once, but they'd never liked each other. She had punched him in the face once back in middle school. Served him right for coming up behind her and snapping her bra straps.  
The conversation about Blake's job carried for a few minutes.  
"-So maybe you're ready to settle down?" Sharon asked. The way she asked was meant to make it sound like Blake and Tommie would be together forever- but in truth, she had hoped that her son would dump Tommie and date a nicer, more tamed girl. Someone she deemed good enough for her eldest son. Tommie was just Blake living on the wild side while he was still young, in her opinion.  
"Been thinkin' about it," Blake teased, hand on Tommie's knee.  
She was miles away from thinking he meant that. It was just the answer his mother wanted to hear.  
She brought her glass of wine to her lips.  
"Maybe even some kids in the future?" Sharon asked.  
Tommie half-shook her head as Blake answered "Maybe!"  
She froze. And Sharon saw it. Ready to put her on the spot if it meant pointing out the dissimilarities between the couple. "You don't want kids, Tommie?"  
"I don't think I'm ready," she offered a polite lie, taking another sip of wine.  
"Because you miscarried...?"  
Tommie accidentally gasped at the statement, a quick splash of wine being sucked down the wrong pipe and starting a coughing fit. She carefully set her glass down not to spill it, hand over her mouth as she struggled to choke out: _"Why do you know that?"_  
No immediate answer. No one knew that it was supposed to be a secret.  
  
On the car ride home, Tommie had been turning over the thought in her head. Why did Sharon fucking White know about her miscarriage? What else did she know?  
"Blake, why does your mom know about when I was pregnant?"  
"I-- I told her," Blake admitted.  
" _Blake!_ " Tommie snapped. Mortified. Betrayed.  
"It was before we were together," he placated. "I needed someone to talk to about it."  
"Not your _mom!_ If you knew you wanted to go out with me then why would you tell your mom about how fucked up my life is!?"  
"I didn't have anyone else to talk to, Rosa!" Blake replied in an agitated tone. He didn't raise his voice. He never did. But he did frequently slip and call her formerly-preferred name. "Everything was so complicated- and I was so fucked up about it. I had feelings for a girl who was with an asshole guy who knocked her up and cheated on her-- and then he dies and she loses the baby and needs someone to stick by her. _Yes, I'm gonna talk to my mom about that!_ "  
"You aired out my dirty laundry to your _family_ \- name drop and all!" She retorted.  
"Well I'm sorry," his tone shifted, so she would know he was being sincere. "I didn't know things would play out the way they did. I didn't expect for the bad shit to happen to you... I didn't even expect you to be with me after it was all over."  
Tommie anxiously bit her lip as she was mulling over his words.  
He was just a man in his twenties who was presented with a scenario and didn't know what to do. She couldn't blame him for that...  
"I'm sorry I freaked out..." She said. "I found out Tracey's pregnant today... It brought up a lot of feelings."  
"Shit..." He said. "I wish I was there with you." He worked so often that he missed a lot of moments. And she worked so often that the moments were held off until she was home alone. It just felt worse every time.  
He set his hand on hers, fingers wrapping around her palm. "I'm sorry... I love you."  
"I love you too."


	8. An Upper Hand

Head abuzz with happy feelings, Avalon spent the next couple of days at work feeling as if she were in a dream. Things with Ace were moving quickly, but it felt good and felt comfortable. The kind of relationship she had always wanted. A secure one.  
“Fuck are you so smiley about?”  
Tommie’s accusatory tone pulled Avalon out of her daydream. “What?”  
“Norton still thinks you owe him something, so what are you so relaxed for?”  
“What crawled up your ass _this_ _week_ , Rosa?”  
“Fuck you, that’s what,” Tommie paused and let out a sigh. “... Sorry. I don’t mean to be such a mega bitch. Just- I have a lot going on right now. And I need, need, _need_ you to take my shift today.”  
“Um, no?” Avalon frowned. “I’ve worked two days straight, it’s my night off.”  
“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important,” Tommie insisted. “I’ll owe you a favor. You know I’m good on my word… C’mon, this is something that can’t wait any longer and I need to take care of it.”  
Avalon sighed, leaned back in the computer chair as far as it would recline. Hands on the arm rests, legs crossed. Eyes on the ceiling. “Fuck me. _Fine._ But you owe me time off. Got it?”  
“You fuckin _got it!_ ” Tommie agreed. “Text me if you need help. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“Later,” Avalon gave her a half-assed wave as she left the room.  
_“Are you working tonight?”_  
Avalon replied to Ace’s text with _“I just found out I am.”_  
_“Mind if I visit?”_  
The Haitian woman smiled and tapped out her reply. _“Come on over. I’m at the Vanilla Unicorn.”_  
Surely it wasn’t that busy today. It was a Thursday afternoon.  
Amanda could handle the front of the house.  
  
"Simon?"  
_"Speaking. Is this Tommie?"_  
"Yeah," she slowly replied. "Are you in class?"  
_"No, I'm free. What's going on? You ﬁnd him?"_  
"Yeah," she answered. "... I can take you out to his place if you want-- just... because it's easy to get lost around there, it's better if I'm with you."  
_"Where's it at?"_  
"Sandy Shores. Middle of fuckin' bone-dry-desert-nowhere."  
_"... You're not gonna murder me out in the desert, are you?"_  
Tommie laughed. "No, _dumbass_ , I'm showing you where Trevor's place is. I can come get you from campus right now. It's a three hour drive to Sandy Shores from Los Santos."  
_"Three hours? Fuck me."_ Simon muttered. _"Okay. I'm gonna blow off class today. I'll be waiting by the track. I hope this is actually it."_  
It deﬁnitely is, she thought. “I’ll be there soon.”

Ace’s soft lips made Avalon feel like she was on Cloud 9, refusing to stop kissing the green-eyed woman even when she couldn’t stop giggling at Avalon’s hands sliding into her shirt and accidentally tickling her stomach on the way up.  
One laugh ended in a moan, and they were both fired up in an instant.  
Ace turned them, moving Avalon back toward the desk and actually lifting her up to sit on it.  
“What are you doing?” Avalon smirked, kissing the mop of pink hair next to her head as Ace’s lips moved downward toward her neck.  
“Why don’t you wait and see?” Ace teased, hands firmly gripping Avalon’s ass as she kissed further downward toward her chest.  
“Fuck, I hope you’re not stopping there,” Avalon breathed.  
“I mean, maybe I won’t if you ask really nice...” Ace’s teeth caught on the zipper on the front of Avalon’s bustier and she moved downward...  
  
The drive to Sandy Shores was quiet- ﬁlled only by music and the sounds of traﬃc. Not to mention the occasional small talk. Tommie asked many questions about Simon. What was he in school for? When was his birthday? Where was he from? What is his mom like?  
"We're from South Yankton," he said. "My mom was a bartender at this fuckin' uh- hole in the wall kinda place. She said Trevor was so shitfaced that he just kept hitting on her and she just kinda went with it after a while. One night stand."  
"Yeah, that sounds like Trevor alright."  
Simon laughed at that. "How do you know him, exactly? Did he work for you?"  
"It was more like I worked for _him_ ," she answered. "I'll explain better when we get there."  
  
The sign for Sandy Shores on the side of the road greeted them as Tommie's car pulled in for the second time that week. "So this place is kinda..."  
"Shitty," Tommie finished the statement. "I know. It's all bikers, doomsday preppers, and white-trash crackheads out here."  
Simon sneered. "Seems promising."  
Tommie drove up to the ruined chain link fence around Trevor's property, parking where his truck always used to be.  
"This is it?"  
"This is it."  
"It's gotta be the shittiest one out of all of 'em- look at it! All of the window are fuckin' broken," Simon got out of the car, and Tommie followed close behind, walking up the creaky steps of the porch as Simon knocked on the door.  
"Here," she said quietly, just turning the knob and pushing the door open for him. Unlocked. There was no reason to lock it anymore- not that Trevor ever had when he lived there. Simon glanced around the empty trailer, expecting to see anyone walk out from anywhere.  
"Ugh, this place fuckin’ reeks…” He pulled the neck of his shirt up over his nose. “Where is he?"  
"He-" Tommie trailed off into silence. Sinking feeling in her chest. "He's gone. He's been gone for a while."  
Simon's expression dropped, and he let go of the material of his T-shirt. "Then why'd you take me here?"  
"Look, I know it's shitty here right now, but this is _nothing_ compared to how it looked when he was here. I needed you to see what he was like. So you know how lucky you are to never have known him." She came further into the trailer, door hanging open behind her. The afternoon sunlight illuminated the room- no more electricity. "As much as I- or anyone _else_ \- loved him, he wasn't a good person. He made and sold meth-- _that's_ the fucking smell in here, by the way. He cannibalized, he murdered, he-"

"Jesus H. Christ, _cannibalized?_ " He echoed. When he saw Tommie nodding, he turned away. Arms crossed. "Fuck... _Fuck_ , man…!" With an incredulous laugh, he turned back to face her. "Are you just fucking like him or something? Is that why you knew him so well?"  
"No." She answered. "I mean-- in a way. We were really close." She sighed, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her middle.  
"So... What were you to him _exactly?_ "  
"We were together," she admitted.  
His expression shifted into a look of disbelief.  
"He wasn't a good man... But he also _was_."  
"The fuck does that mean?"  
"It's complicated..." They lapsed into silence, Simon turning his back on her to look around the room. The smell of the meth lab that had been set up in the kitchen lingered despite the place having been aired out over the last week. There were stains all over the ﬂoor- food, chemicals, various bodily ﬂuids, squished roaches and rats...  
"Who in the _hell_ are the two of you?" The two froze, attention moving to the open front door of the trailer. An elderly woman stood in the doorway with her hand on her hip. Short, ﬁre engine red hair, trashy, overdone makeup, and clothes that looked like the East coast circa 2008 vomited them out.  
"Who the flying _fuck_ are _you?_ " Tommie demanded rather than asked. "This is private property-"  
"This is my son's home," she retorted.  
" _Your son?_ " Simon gaped.  
_... This was Trevor's mom?_  
This certainly explained a lot...  
“Y’know what,” Tommie said, stepping in between them. “I know enough about you to know you’re not here just to visit. There’s no pills here and nobody invited you, so get the _fuck_ out!" Tommie snapped. Simon ﬂinched at the sudden aggression in Tommie's voice- though he did think it was kind of hot...  
Mrs. Philips hadn't anticipated for this stranger to challenge her. But recognized Tommie by her description.  
Trevor had mentioned her once.  
The last time she came.  
And explicitly stated that she was the girl of his dreams. "You must be that little slut he mentioned last I was over.”  
“ _Slut?_ ” Tommie gaped, watching Mrs. Philips let herself inside the trailer.  
“And who are _you?_ ” She asked Simon, looking around the empty trailer as if debating on whether she could claim it for herself.  
“I’m  _his_ son,” Simon said before Tommie could intervene.  
The old woman’s eyes noticeably widened with interest. “ _Really_...”  
Tommie intervened. “Listen, if you don’t leave on your own, I’ll _throw_ you out. You’re not _my_ relative, Betty, I don’t have to give a shit!”  
Betty tensed up. “You don’t have the _balls_ , little girl.”  
Tommie balled her fists. “Fuckin’  _try_ me and find out,”  
Simon watched the two women stare each other down for a long moment, waiting to see who would blink first.  
“I don’t have time for this,” Betty muttered, turning away to leave- hand on her lower back as if it were sore. “I have to get to the pharmacy before it closes.”  
“Yeah that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” Tommie said. “Walk away.”  
“ _You_ knew my boy,” Betty said, pausing in the doorway before she left. “Where is he?”  
“Dead.” Tommie flatly replied. “For over a year. Thanks for comin' to the goddamn memorial service.”  
Betty’s expression dropped. Somber.  
And she left.  
An air of sobriety emanating from her as if this was truly bad news for her.  
“He’s fucking dead…?” Simon quietly asked when they were alone. “I thought-”  
“When I said he was gone, I meant he died,” she said. ”... I didn’t want you to find out like _this_.”  
“What’s the right fucking way to find out that your dad died before you could even _meet_ him!?”  
“It’s probably just as bad as your dad dying _right after_ you meet him,” she said. “There’s some things I need to tell you, Simon. Please don’t freak out...”  
“Well… Shit. I can't promise anything after a day like today.”  
  
“You're so cute,” Avalon said, observing Ace as she re-buttoned her colorful floral shirt, leaving the top two undone to where the lace in her bra was exposed.  
Ace’s cheeks turned so pink that they put her hair to shame. “So you prefer the _after_ sex look?”  
Avalon laughed, zipping up her bustier again and adjusting for comfort. “I mean, my _favorite_ look is mid-sex, but I like the after look too. Your hair's all messy- it's adorable.”  
Ace had been in the middle of smoothing down her hair until the compliment came. “Maaaaybe I wear it messy more often?”  
“Maaaaybe you’ll get laid more often!”  
Ace laughed, fumbling to rebuckle her belt while unable to take her eyes off of the beautiful woman in front of her. “ _Definitely_ wear it messy more often, then. Daily.”  
Avalon giggled and moved in to kiss Ace again, arms around the shorter woman’s shoulders… Well, shorter thanks to Avalon’s heels. They were actually right around the same height.  
Ace’s phone began to ring, and she pulled back from Avalon with an irritable groan. That phone only rang when there was a problem. Either with the growhouse or with her friends.  
“I gotta take this,” Ace said softly, turning away when Avalon nodded and tapping the screen of her phone to answer the call. “ _What?_ ”  
The harsh tone of voice was kinda sexy in Avalon’s opinion. Ace was the boss, and it showed.  
“I’m kinda busy right now, Graves… What’s it matter what I’m doin’? I said I’m _buuuuusy_.” She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well tell Non I’ll show up later… Yeah, I wanna get paid… Fuck. Fine. I’m comin’. Tell her I said not to let Boytoy hurt himself again... H'es not comin'? Sweet, I'm _definitely_ comin', then. Later.”  
“Friends?” Avalon smirked once Ace ended the call.  
“Yeah. They got a job they want me in.”  
“What’s the job?”  
“We’re settin’ up a nightclub. Out in Vespucci.”  
“Oooooh,” Avalon grinned. “That’s exciting. I hope I get to make it to the premiere.”  
“Please! You’re _my_ girl, you’re VIP,” Ace winked.  
  
Avalon let out a dreamy sigh from where she sat at the desk. She and Ace screwed on that desk- and Tommie would probably be pissed off if she ever found out about it.  
Speaking of which, it was time to suggest to her that they try again to buy drugs to distribute.  
Tommie was suggestible when it came to business tactics- that came with her youth and lack of knowledge on running a business. It was easy to be the mastermind.   
_“I want to talk about trying to make more deals when you get back.”_ Read her text to Tommie. As soon as the message showed the small check mark beside the timestamp to signal that it was delivered, Avalon sunk into the chair, eyes closed. Back in reality.  
“Must be stressful to make this much money.”  
Avalon gasped and her eyes shot open- finding Dave Norton in the office again.  
“Fuuuck, what do you want _now?_ ” She groaned.  
At least he didn’t show up when Ace or Tommie were there. It would’ve been a catastrophe.  
“I finally decided what you’re gonna do for me,” he said, just after rubbing his tired looking eyes with one hand, a large manila folder in the other.  
“So what will get you to leave me the fuck alone?”  
“The IAA’s been interfering with our investigations for a while,” Dave said, moving closer toward the desk and setting down the folder. Avalon could read the label _IAA CRIMINAL CONTRACTORS._ “They've been digging their noses where they shouldn't. They started hiring civilian contractors over the last few years. Now they're bringing things to light that aren't meant for the general public… And on top of that, we can’t buy them out. They refuse to work with the FIB no matter what we offer 'em.”  
“So, what, you want me to fuck up these contractors?” Avalon asked.  
“Yes. There's five of them,” Dave replied, opening the folder to reveal a small stack of printed photos. The top of a young black man standing at a bus stop and staring at his phone. “Real identities are unknown. But they each have aliases. We at least know that much about them.”  
He pointed to the bottom corner of the picture. The name read _“MICK”_.  
He spread the five photos on the desk and Avalon looked at them each in series.  
_MICK._  
_GRAVES_. An older, darker skinned black man who was holding hands with two little girls. Kids? Grandkids?  
_JESSICA._ A young white woman fueling up an old green minivan at an LTD gas station.  
_NONA._ A lanky white woman with black hair and big glasses, sitting at a Bean Machine and staring down at her phone.  
_ACE._  
Avalon thought her heart stopped in her chest.  
The photo was of _her_ Ace. Auri. Leaving a bar and pulling on the same faded denim jacket she wore at the drug deal. Same purple lensed sunglasses on her face.  
“You… Want me to _kill_ these people?” Avalon asked slowly, looking over each of them. All so unassuming. So average looking.  
“Not like you haven’t done it before,” Dave said.  
“I haven’t,” she lied.  
“Hm, that’s right,” he said. “You never committed to your position at the FIB _that_ much… How much are you putting on the line for _this_ job, exactly?”  
Avalon was seething, painted nails firmly digging into the ends of the armrests on her chair. She wanted her fingers wrapped around his neck.  
“I’ll be back in a few days,” Norton said. “Let me know how things are goin’.”  
“What happened to you, Dave?” Avalon asked through gritted teeth. “Did sucking Agent Haines’ dick too much turn you into him? Because this isn't like _you_. This is some shit _he_ would pull.”  
Dave froze on his way toward the door. “Having an upper hand is what keeps people alive. Having an upper hand over _other_ people keeps  _you_ alive. Someday you’ll understand that, Charles.”  
He left, and Avalon was left alone with the photos.  
And a dilemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jessica or 'Jess' belongs to JetravenEx


	9. Amateur Night

"I'm _so_ sorry about all of this," Tommie said, sitting across from Simon at Burger Shot. By the time they got back to Los Santos, it was getting late. And they were hungry. "I didn't know his mother would show up and... I got so..." Angry. _Irrationally_ angry at a woman she had never even met before.  
But Trevor had disclosed a lot of information about his mother. She seemed to be one of the roots of his issues. And Tommie knew she would never like Mrs. Philips because of it. She damaged what could've been a good, healthy man. Maybe if she were better, Trevor might’ve still been alive.  
“I _‘got so’_ a little bit myself,” Simon admitted, one hand under the table anxiously tapping against his fidgeting knee and the other holding up a couple of ketchup dipped fries. “It’s cool. I get it.”  
She frowned. “Are you sure?”  
“Yeah, what’s not to get about your dad being a meth-head-cannibal-serial-killer? Oh, and that he had a twenty year old girlfriend who is now _my_ _boss._ ” Simon glanced up and spotted a waitress. “Uh- ‘scuse me, can I get a beer? Or two? Tommie, you want one? Two beers, please.”  
“I can’t drink, I’m driving,” Tommie replied, giving Simon a look of unease.  
“Both for me then.”  
“You’re really not taking this well, are you?”  
Simon gave her a flippant laugh. “How would _you_ take it?”  
"Simon..."  
"I'm _fine_ , okay." He insisted, nodding his thanks to their waitress when she brought two Pißwassers and set them down in front of the two young adults. Simon took the one from Tommie’s side of the table first and downed it, setting down an empty glass bottle less than fifteen seconds later. He suppressed a burp by putting his face into his elbow, then leaned back in his seat. Staring at the empty beer bottle. "I'm thinking I'm gonna quit working for you, though."  
"I understand," she said. "But listen, if you need anything, I'll make sure you have it."  
"Never had a sugar mama before," he said in monotone.  
Tommie smirked. "Welcome to Los Santos."  
“You know what's especially weird about this?”  
“What?”  
“I can see why he might have liked you,” Simon said. “It's not just that you're hot, but like- you're cool. And you're pretty set on making sure I'm fine with all this. But like… Are _you_ fine with this?  
Tommie frowned, opting not to acknowledge the comment on her appearance. “What do you mean?”  
“Your dead ex-boyfriend having a surprise son- who's _your age?_ ”  
“... I can be okay with it. Sooner or later,” she replied. “ _Later_ , more than likely… Can we be friends now instead of… whatever this shit was? I know this is a really fucked up situation, but...”  
Her phone vibrated on the table.  
A text, from Blake. _“Where are you?”_  
Fuck. She forgot they had plans tonight. “It would make me _happier_ if we were on good terms.”  
“Yeah, we can be friends,” Simon said. “But with all this shit, I think friendship is the limit before shit starts to get even weirder.”  
“What do you mean _weirder_ ?” Tommie asked, just after sending her reply to Blake.  
_“I’m on my way home.”_ _  
_ “I was going to ask you out at some point,” Simon said. “Thought you were real fuckin’ cute. A little awkward, but cute.”  
“You were gonna ask me out?” She frowned. “Dude, I have a boyfriend.”  
“Well  _that_ would’ve been great to fuckin’ know before I said any of that!”  
“You didn’t even ask!” Tommie laughed, just as Simon reached for the second beer and drained it- albeit slower than the first. “Look- don’t get upset. I-”  
“I’m not upset,” he shrugged. “Just- takin’ the hits as they come, and they are _comin’_.”  
They lapsed into silence, Tommie unwittingly smiling the whole time.  
He was gonna ask her out. How absurd. She was flattered, though.  
“Got any pictures? I don’t even know what the motherfucker looks like. My mom said I take after him.”  
“I have a few,” she replied, going through her album from 2016 and sliding her phone across the table to him.  
First and foremost was the drunk selfie she took with him in it- the same one that was in her desk.  
“Yikes, nice hairline,” was all he had to say at first. The tattoo around the older man’s throat. CUT HERE. As well as the dagger on his forearm.  
Tommie had the exact same one, with a dotted line down the blade. CUT HERE.  
“That tattoo for him?”  
“It is. My boyfriend doesn’t even know that.”  
“... God, I hope I don’t go fucking bald.” He passed her phone back to her. “What did you even _see_ in Trevor anyway?” He asked. “He sounds like he was fuckin’ trash… And he _looks_ like it too…”  
The question blindsided her. “Um...”  
Simon noted that she looked so saddened by the question.  
“There were a lot of things we could relate to each other with… At least it felt like a lot,” she said. “And y’know… He _was_ kinda trash. But one man’s trash is another’s treasure.”  
“Good in bed, huh?”  
Tommie grinned, hands over her face to try to hide it. “Fuck you.”  
Simon’s laughter made her face go red.  
  
“Hang on,” Tommie said just before Simon got out of the car. She brought him back to his dorm. “This… All of this stays between you and me, okay?”  
“Yeah,” he said. “I doubt I’ll be proudly telling _anyone_ about today. I don’t even fuckin’ think I’m gonna tell my mom.”  
“I wouldn’t,” she said. “And um… I know you don’t _wanna_ work for me, buuuut it would really make me feel better knowing you have a job somewhere your employer isn’t gonna fuck you over… College is expensive, Simon. Trust me, I know-”  
“ _Uuuuggggghhh,_ ” he groaned, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “... Guess I do _need_ a job, don’t I? You gonna pay good?”  
“Name your price,” she said. “Money’s not an object.”  
“Thirty bucks an hour,”  
“Done.”  
He paused, trying to find the bluff in her expression. “... Fifty.”  
“Done.”  
“Seventy five.”  
“You’re fucking pushing it.”  
He smiled. “Okay, fifty. Final answer.”  
She smiled back. “Then it’s a deal.”  
They shook hands on it, and he exited the car.  
As soon as it closed, Tommie rolled down the window on that side and called out: “And let me know if you need anything. _Anything!_ I’ll take care of it.”  
Simon gave her a grateful wave over his shoulder as he walked away.  
  
“Who’s _Simon?_ ”  
Tommie looked up from her half-eaten plate of food. He’d looked at her phone when the screen lit up. A text from Simon. The message preview showed that he was asking about hours.  
They were having dinner at home, but she wasn’t hungry. She ate at Burger Shot with Simon- a trip she wouldn’t tell Blake about.  
It was supposed to be a date night. Blake made them dinner and they’d watch a movie and move on to sex if the mood struck.  
“Nobody important,” she lied. “Friend from work.”  
“Wow, _you_ have _friends?_ ” He asked through a smirk.  
She rolled her eyes and offered a half-smile. “I’m just fuckin’  _full_ of surprises, ain’t I?”  
It felt bad keeping secrets from him, but it was a necessary evil when it was something like meeting and befriending Trevor’s son.  
“So what’d you do today?” Blake asked.  
“I was feeling a little bummed out today,” Tommie said. “Went for a long drive and ended up on the beach in Paleto Bay.”  
“What was bothering you?” He asked.  
“Just work stuff,” she lied. “Things have been stressful thanks to that dickhead in office. He wants us to shut down in the next few years by raising taxes as high as he can on my property.”  
What Tommie was unaware of, was that Blake had catalogued this information.  
Gone all day, with a new contact in her phone texting her when she was at home.  
“It wouldn’t be so bad to shut down, would it?”  
“It’s my _job_ , Blake… _My_ club.”  
“But you’re a millionaire, you don’t _have_ to work.”  
“What would I be doing if I didn’t work?” She frowned. “Get back on coke? Be an advanced alcoholic like Michael?”  
“Does he drink that much?”  
“I mean, he _did_ when he and Amanda were married...”  
They shared a mutual sigh and went quiet for a second before Blake spoke again. “I mean… Instead of working you could be comfortable at home, doing whatever you want. Or you could work somewhere less...” Less seedy? Less sexually-charged? Less surrounded by booze and drugs and horny men?  
“Sounds like you want me to be a more ‘model citizen’,” she said, poking at a single green bean on her plate. “Your mom’s been getting in your head about this again.”  
“She hasn’t,” he insisted. “I just think-”  
“I’m not giving away the Unicorn,” Tommie said flatly. “It would fall apart without me.”  
“What about Avalon?”  
“Fuck Avalon, it’s mine no matter what she says,” she insisted, taking a sip from her glass of wine.  
Tommie always got defensive about owning the club. He wondered if it was only because it was part her history with the dead man.  
And he was right.  
“No, it was _Trevor’s_. You just decided to call it yours.”  
That struck a nerve. “Blake. We're bordering on some _very_ sensitive shit here, and I don’t wanna argue about this _again_. Not today.”  
“Okay, okay, fuck...” He leaned back in his chair. It creaked under his weight. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fight either.”  
“Seems like that’s all we do anymore...”  
“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”  
“Me too.”  
“Love you.”  
“Love you too.”  
  
Five days since Norton came to the Unicorn.  
Avalon had made no progress on even just the decision to go through with his task.  
Alone in her house in Vinewood Hills, she anxiously checked her phone. Constantly. It seemed that hours had gone by in between each time she did, but it was only increments of ten minutes each time.  
Yesterday she had received a text. Asking if she had done it yet. What was taking so long? She knew what was at stake, right? She knew that he would burn her and Vercetti to the ground and air it on national television, right?  
_“Still busy?”_ Ace’s text had gone unanswered in three days. Avalon was too afraid to speak to her. How could she face her girlfriend now that she was tasked to kill her?  
But she couldn’t just let her think she disappeared or abandoned her. _“Still busy. Sorry, babe xoxo”_  
What could she do?  
  
The premiere of Maisonette Los Santos was on a Friday night.  
Avalon observed the line out the door when her taxi dropped her off. The bouncer standing by, as intimidating as he could be- only allowed one or two people in at a time.  
Avalon stood in the line, checking her phone to see when Ace would get there.  
What would she tell Ace about the FIB hiring Avalon to kill her?  
Why was Ace working with the IAA anyway?  
"Av, babe," a warm hand on her lower back and a sweet voice pulled her from her screen. She saw Ace, looking lovely. For once wearing a short skirt and off shoulder shirt for the occasion. "What're you in line for? You're VIP, remember?"  
How could she stay away from a smile that beautiful for any longer?  
Avalon smiled back at her and stepped out of the line with her girlfriend, being jealously eyed by others in the queue behind her.  
Ace led her past the bouncer without so much as a glance at him. Even the woman at the counter for admissions and extra security guard didn't faze her at all.  
The posters on the walls stated that tonight's DJs were Solomun and The Black Madonna. A good lineup for a first night.  
The heavy bass seemed to vibrate the entire building, and only grew stronger as the two women ventured further into the club.  
Avalon recognized Lazlow from Fame or Shame dancing on one of the lighted platforms. "Wow, your friend pulled out all the stops for this club," Avalon had to shout to be heard over the music.  
Ace led the way up a set of stairs to the VIP area. "She likes makin’ money!"  
"Well she's gonna be rich from all of this!"  
Seated in the VIP area was a group of people. And Avalon recognized most of them from the photos.  
Mick, Graves, Jessica, and Nona. A few extra people were with them. Two black women- one young, one older. The older one holding hands with Graves (his wife?).  
In addition to them was a tired looking white man beside Nona. His hand on her thigh.  
A boyfriend, Avalon assumed from lack of wedding rings.  
She had to kill most of these people.  
And here they were right in front of her, all gathered in one place.  
Out to have a good time with their loved ones. This felt like an impossible task.  
These people didn't even seem like menaces to the FIB.  
  
“Dare you to go up there and shake it,” Simon said, sitting next to Tommie at the bar.  
Amateur Night was a new Friday night attraction in the club- which brought in women as well as men.  
Late in the evening when the girls in the club were ready to clock out for the weekend.  
Amanda snickered from behind the counter when Tommie gave Simon a look of comedic disgust.  
“I don't dance.” Tommie said.  
“Seriously?” He laughed.  
“It’s true,” Amanda confirmed while Tommie took a sip of her drink. “I’ve never seen Rosa dance, ever. Not even at my daughter’s wedding.”  
“I mean, I danced with _Lamar_ once at the wedding,” Tommie shrugged. “But I don’t really count that.”  
“Who’s Lamar?” Simon gave Tommie a sly look and nudged her with his elbow.  
“One of my friends _,_ ” She clarified, fighting a smirk. “Doesn't count!”  
She watched the drunk man on the stage, attempting to twerk to Iconapop's I Love It- which got roaring laughter from the whole club as well as several dollar bills thrown his way.  
“Why don’t _you_ go up there?” Tommie smirked. “Put your money where your mouth is.”  
Amanda laughed at the idea. Hard. She had to lean against the counter, hand over her lips to try to restrain it.  
Simon’s cheeks turned red. “Seriously?”  
“Bet you twenty bucks you fuckin’ won’t,” Tommie grinned.  
“Bet you twenty bucks I fuckin’ _will_ ,” he replied, finishing off his beer- and then draining the last ⅓ of Tommie’s. “Pick a song for me, I’m doin’ it.”  
“Pick a song _for you!?_ ” Tommie called after him as he strode toward the entrance to the stage. “I hope you know I’m gonna make this hard on you!” She turned to Amanda, who was still fighting the giggles. “I’m gonna make this _so_ hard on him.”  
She headed for the DJ booth and told him what to go with for Simon’s turn, just as the drunk guy before him was finishing up.  
**_“Alright ladies,”_ ** the DJ announced over the system, just as Tommie was leaving the booth to stand back by Amanda at the bar. **_“Next up we got another treat- Mr. Simon Sex gettin’ ready to come up and show us what he’s got-”_ ** Just as soon as the DJ said Simon’s improvised stripper name, he appeared at the back of the stage, doubled over in nervous laughter that couldn’t be heard over the music. Several people in the crowd, men and women alike, broke into giggles or excited, drunken cheering. Tommie and Amanda thought they were gonna lose it. **_“Give it up ladies, Simon’s gonna show us how he works it in his Boogie Shoes!”_ ** **_  
_ ** KC and the Sunshine Band immediately playing through the speakers.  
Tommie had taken a sip of a fresh beer and nearly spit it out in laughter as Simon strutted down the stage with exaggerated confidence, stopping halfway to shake his ass back and forth.  
“I _love_ this kid!” Amanda beamed. “There’s no way he’s Trevor’s!”  
“You mean you don’t see it in how _ridiculous_ he is?” Tommie replied through a fit of giggles, abandoning the idea of even _trying_ to drink when Simon made it to the pole at the end of the stage. Clearly he was a little buzzed from downing beers just before going up- because his attempt to spin around the pole was kinda sloppy. But still earned a good response from the club, who were all clapping in time with the music. Tommie could even see some of the strippers on the sidelines clapping for him and shouting praise.  
Lita had started wearing glasses a few months ago- and Tommie became more aware of her blurry vision. She really needed an eye exam. She ended up leaving the bar to move a little closer to the edge of the platform that made up the bar area- for a better view.  
“ _Oh, no_ ,” she broke into another wide grin when Simon pulled off his shirt and threw it out into the crowd. She didn’t dare him to _strip_ , just to dance- but like Trevor, he would take things a few steps further to really drive home the point that he wasn’t afraid of anything. She noticed he had a tattoo on his left bicep. She couldn’t make out what it was, but she saw the heavy black ink.  
A woman in the club caught Simon’s shirt and spun it over her head, just as he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt.  
_Sweet Jesus, how far_ _was_ _he going to undress?  
_ The entire room cheered and shouted as Simon dropped his pants- just down to his boxers and socks.  
Tommie slapped her hand to her forehead and dragged it down her face, dumbfounded.  
At this rate, he was gonna get that seventy five an hour he was trying to bargain for.  
Leaving his jeans and shoes on the stage, he climbed down and jumped the guard rail that separated the seating area from the stage. Several drunk woman there for a bachelorette party caressed his stomach, chest, or arms when he passed them up- but he didn’t stop until he reached where Tommie was standing, spotlights following him all of the way to her until he proceeded to dance _on_ her.  
Both hands over her face for a moment as she tried to hide how red her cheeks were from laughter and the embarrassment of being _part_ of the center of attention.  
“ _'_ _Simon Sex’_ , huh?” He had to shout to be heard over the music. She noted that the tattoo on his bicep was the silhouette of a forest.  
“ _Obviously_ you needed a stage name!” She slipped a twenty dollar bill out of her bra and shoved against his face- just to obscure the cocky look he gave her.  
He took the twenty between his teeth and shot her a wink that said she should never try to call him on a dare, then retreated back to the stage just as the song was ending. And had dollar bills thrown at him as he collected his clothes.  
Tommie stood by, smiling widely as she crossed her arms over her middle. He was bold, and she admired that.  
“Is he single?” One of her dancers, Layla, approached her to ask.  
“Actually, I heard he’s gay,” Tommie replied without skipping a beat. She didn’t know why she’d said it. She didn’t want any of her employees to date him.  
She didn’t want _anyone_ to date him.  
  
“Did I earn my paycheck, boss!?” Simon beamed as he finally departed from the bachelorette party crowding him. All of the bridal crew aside from the bride-to-be had taken down his phone number. And now he was shoving dollar bills into his pockets.  
“And then some!” Amanda said, passing him another beer. “This one’s on me, honey.”  
“Thank _you_ ,” he wagged his eyebrows at the older woman as he appreciatively drained half of the beer within seconds.  
Tommie found herself observing him closely as he pushed back his messy hair.  
And felt strange.  
Like she was high.


	10. Deep Six

“How was amateur night?” Avalon asked as she entered the back office, still dressed up.  
Tommie glanced up at her from her laptop. She was the last one left now that the club was empty.  
Blake was working all night again, so there wasn’t anything to go home to.  
“Went pretty fuckin’ good,” Tommie said, only glancing up to see Avalon before her eyes went back down to her computer. She was speaking to Lester about income. And that she hired a new employee- who required money going into his account without taxation. “How’s your girlfriend?”  
Avalon paused. “How do _you_ know about that?”  
Tommie smirked and folded her laptop shut. “Kinda hard to miss when you say ‘you met someone nice’ one day and then come to work every day _afterward_ looking like you won the lottery.”  
“Well…” Avalon grinned. “She’s _good_. How’s Blake?”  
“He is _Blake_ ,” she answered. “Work, work, work, argue, argue, argue.”  
“Power struggle?”  
Tommie frowned. “Why do people keep saying things like that?”  
Silence for a moment as Avalon tossed her purse onto the couch against the wall and got comfortable in one of the chairs across Tommie’s desk. “How long have you and Blake been together?”  
“A year next week,” Tommie replied.  
“When did Trevor die?”  
“... _Why?_ ”  
“I was just wondering… Do you think maybe you rushed into a new relationship to try to make yourself feel right?”  
“That is a _very_ loaded question.”  
“It’s something you probably haven’t asked yourself before,” Avalon said. “If all you do is work and fight-”  
“Av.” Tommie interrupted. “I don’t like this conversation.”  
The older woman sighed, and settled back into her seat, pulling up the top of her strapless dress. “Okay. Sorry.”  
Another silence.  
“I need you to help me with something.”  
Tommie frowned. “What is it?”  
“Mr. Norton came in here five-” she glanced at her phone to see that it was two in the morning. “ _Six_ days ago. With the task he wanted me to do for him. I got today to make it happen before he does something about it.”  
“Why the _fuck_ didn’t you say so sooner?” Tommie glared. “What does he want? Money?”  
“Assassination.”  
Tommie’s expression dropped.  
“Five people,” Avalon continued. “He says they’re contractors for the IAA. Criminal contractors. Says they’re getting work done and making the FIB look bad to the public.”  
“So they’re the good guys,” Tommie muttered. “He wants us to kill people exposing conspiracies.”  
“And one of them is my girl.” Avalon said. Looking nervous. “I have to confess something to you.”  
“What the fuck did you do?” The accusatory look on Tommie’s face was the same as always when Avalon was admitting to something: _‘Did you fucking sell me out?’_  
“My girl, one of our victims, is _Ace_.”  
“Ace,” Tommie repeated. “Pot farmer Ace? Failed drug deal, showed up with the FIB Ace?”  
“She didn’t bring the FIB,” Avalon said. “They were trying to investigate _her_ … And that drug deal wasn’t failed. She got the money, we got the product, we sold the product and made more money... Obviously we can’t do what Norton wants, so-”  
“Nonono _no_ ,” Tommie said. “This isn’t a ‘we’ problem anymore. You're _literally_ in bed with the dealer. _You_ went behind my fucking back. _You_ convinced me to start selling. _You’re_ the former FIB agent. _You’re_ the one Norton wants to fuck over. This is a _you_ problem. So what are _you_ going to do?”  
Avalon looked like a deer in the headlights. “I can’t kill these people, Tommie,” she quietly said. “I met all of them. Tonight. They’re not bad people. I can’t do it.”  
“Then _what_ , exactly, are you going to do about the FIB?”  
“I'm…” Avalon looked like she was going to be sick. “I'm gonna kill Dave Norton.”  
“How?”  
“I don't know yet!” The older woman groaned, rubbing her temples as a headache flared to life. “You're the planner, I need you on this!”  
“I'm handling my own issues, I can't clean up after you too!”  
“We’re _partners!_ ”  
Tommie silenced. It was true that they needed each other on this. But if anyone was going to be investigated for the disappearance of an FIB agent, it wasn't going to be Tommie Vercetti; whose father was under prior investigation and whose dead ex-boyfriend was on the top-ten most wanted list. “I'm not killing anyone again, Avalon. This is all you.”  
“Tommie-"  
“I can’t be put in the spotlight after everything I’ve done. You can finish out your shifts for the rest of the week if you need the money. But afterward, you and I are done. Consider yourself fired.”  
  
Avalon Charles had prided herself on two things: Her ability to act in any situation, and her control over her emotions.  
Both of which, were failing her now.  
Sitting in her car, still parked outside of the Vanilla Unicorn now that Tommie had gone home, she allowed herself to cry.  
What could she do?  
  
“ _‘Dear Ms. Vercetti, we read the article in Stars Talk back in 2017 featuring you and Mr. Avon Hertz, and saw your cameo in Pussycat’s article for Top Ten Hottest Entrepreneurs Of Los Santos. We regret not contacting you sooner, as we believe that you are exactly the face we want for our fall catalogue here at Gusset,’_ ” Tommie's jaw had dropped as Blake read the letter aloud. “ _‘If you are interested in being photographed for our luxury lingerie and fashion line, please send us an email or call our office Monday through Thursday between 9AM and 4PM.’_ Holy fuck, they're offering to have you _model_ for them.”  
“No fucking way!” Tommie beamed. “ _Modeling!?_ ”  
“Are you gonna take them up on it?”  
“Fuck yeah, I am!” She jumped out of her seat at the kitchen counter. “Oh my God, do you know how fucking cool this feels? To be _that person_ everyone thought was a huge fucking loser in high school- and end up as an independently owned businesswoman who _models_ on the side? It's like the universe is saying sorry for all the bullshit!”  
Blake didn’t look as excited as she felt. “Do you think you have time for it?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You’re stressed enough running the club. Do you think modeling is gonna lighten that load?”  
“Blake, it’s money. _Money!_ And exposure!” She explained. “The club can bring in more customers if people see me and recognize me as the owner of the Unicorn! We can move into a big house in the Hills, we-”  
“I think you might need some help on this one. _This_ needs more than just you to balance all of it.”  
Tommie paused, deciding to muse on the idea for a moment. “... Wanna be my manager?”  
“Tommie-”  
“ _I pay well,_ ” She said in a sing-song voice. Hoping the offer would tempt him. Money or sex- whatever he was more interested in.  
“What about _my_ job?” Blake frowned, adjusting his glasses.  
Tommie’s expression dropped. “You’re really set on Maze Bank, huh?”  
“They’re literally the best fucking job I’ve _ever_ had,” Blake nodded. “I’m sorry, babe… I can’t just leave that.”  
“I know,” she sighed. “Doesn’t hurt to offer, right?”  
“Got anyone else who can hook you up?”  
She thought of Simon. He was supposed to be a bouncer, but she figured she was paying him enough to where he should have a job that _warrants_ the type of money she was giving him. “I think I know someone.”  
  
Avalon’s shift was on the sixth day.  
She had, essentially, until the end of today to kill Ace and her crew.  
Tommie wouldn’t let her off the hook for her shift.  
Any minute.  
Any fucking minute he could come in and remind her that the clock was ticking. He could have begun an investigation already. He could sell her out to the FIB even if she did go through with the task.  
And that’s why she had to kill him.  
This had to happen. But how could she do it without making a mess?  
  
It wasn’t her day to work, but Tommie had gone to the Unicorn. Because she knew Simon was working tonight. She found him speaking to Amanda at the bar, on his way back outside from the bathroom. Stopping only to grab a bottle of water.  
“Simon!” Tommie greeted as she approached. “I gotta talk to you real quick!”  
“Oh shit, I’m not getting fired, am I?”  
“Nope! I’m hiring you for something else!” She turned to the bar. “Hi, Amanda!”  
“Hi, Rosa, how’s Blake?”  
“Same old, ‘scuse us for a sec-” She pulled Simon away by the sleeve of his staff T-shirt. The best spot to talk was near the ATM- close to the entrance.  
“I hope you’re not trying to take me on as a janitor instead of a bouncer,” Simon said, hands in his back pockets.  
“Actually, I was hoping I could take you on as a manager,” she replied. “Are you good with scheduling and talking on the phone?”  
“ _Manager?_ ” He gaped. “Of the _club?_ ”  
“For me, actually,” she replied. “I received an invitation to do some modeling. Figured if I’m gonna branch out my methods of income, I might as well have someone help me keep it all compartmentalized.”  
“Modeling, huh?” He scanned her up and down.  
“ _Dude!_ ” She laughed, smile dropping when a man walked past them and headed for the back office.  
Simon noticed the shift in her expression. “You good?”  
“I need to go talk to Avalon. Make sure nobody comes to the back office.”  
  
They kept a gun somewhere in the office. Avalon had seen it once or twice. Tommie didn't say where she kept it- she didn't feel she could trust Avalon like that.  
“ _Fucking Tommie_ ,” she muttered under her breath, searching through all of the compartments in the desk and emptying the drawers to try to find the weapon. She even sunk to her knees on the carpeting to see if it had possibly taped to the underside of the desk.  
“Having a rough night?”  
Avalon jumped to her feet at the sound of Dave Norton's voice on the other side of the desk. He had let himself in.  
“You haven't contacted me about if you've done the job yet,” he said. “I assume that means you haven't.”  
“No,” Avalon said, standing up. “And I'm not going to.” She would just have to improvise.  
A pair of scissors on the desk were the first thing that caught her attention.  
She would apologize to Tommie for the mess later. She could contact Lester and ask him to get her in touch with a cleanup crew.  
Dave Norton sighed and rubbed his eyes. “What are you going to do, then?” He asked. “Abandon all of this?” He motioned around the office. “This money? This little life you think you deserve?”  
He spotted the printed photo of Tommie and Trevor Philips on the desk, and picked it up to look at…  
Just as Tommie entered the room.  
“You must be Tommie Vercetti,” Dave said, setting down the picture. “I see you and Trevor were close. He never mentioned a girl.”  
“You're Dave Norton,” she chose to dance around the subject of her relationship with Trevor. “You wanted Avalon to do something for you?” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans.  
And carefully unlocked the blade in her knife so that it wouldn't make the telltale clicking sound.  
“Maybe _you_ can give her a hand,” he noted. “Since you seem to not have a problem with this kind of work.”  
“What makes you say that, sir?”  
“ _No one_ associated with Trevor Philips unless they were on board with whatever he wanted.”  
She said nothing else.  
So he turned back to Avalon, opting to forget about Tommie for the moment. A mistake. “So while I have you both here-”  
Dave Norton never finished his sentence.  
The moment he turned his back on Tommie, she freed her knife from her pocket and jammed the blade into his neck.  
Avalon slapped her hands over her mouth to hide that she had screamed.  
Blood spurted from the wound, even as he tried to clamp his hands down on it. She had stabbed open his jugular. Fatal.  
Within seconds he had passed out from blood loss. And made a giant mess in the office.  
“ _Oh, SHIT!_ ” The older woman gasped.  
Tommie shrugged, dropping the bloody knife onto the carpet. “Problem solved?”  
“You probably couldn't have made a bigger fucking mess if you tried!”  
“Problem solved.”  
“Oh Jesus Christ, it's everywhere!” Avalon groaned, leaning over the desk to examine the blood pooling beneath Dave Norton's body. A trail of spatter on the floor led all of the way toward the wall adjacent to the desk. “Look at it- it's all over the fucking walls!”  
“Will you shut the fuck up so I can think!?” Tommie snapped, searching her hands for traces of blood. Only one splash on her left hand- the one that was holding the knife. Other than that, she and Avalon were clean. The office was its own issue. Then there was disposal.  
She thought back on how she and her father disposed of the weapons used to kill Joey Leone and his bodyguard.  
“Go to the nearest 24/7,” Tommie ordered. The planner, as always. “Pick up trash bags, duct tape, bleach, rubber gloves, and rags. We're gonna get rid of him.”  
“What are you gonna do?”  
“I'm gonna make some phone calls. Just go get the stuff and get back here.”  
Avalon grabbed her car keys, trembling, and headed out the back door from the office.  
  
Her burner phone was the one she kept in the desk drawer. Avalon had put it on top of the desk when she was searching- for the gun, Tommie assumed. That was elsewhere.  
She went into her contact list and dialed the only contact on the phone: Lester.  
_“What's the problem?”_ He answered immediately after the first ring.  
“We did a bad fucking thing tonight,” she replied. “There's a dead FIB agent on the floor of my office.”  
_“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU VERCETTIS?”  
_ “Will you shut up and get a cleanup crew in here!? I'll pay you, just set me up and make sure they're on the up and up.”  
_“Fine,”_ he hissed. Clearly on edge. _“But don't expect them to work quickly- they're thorough, they don't cut corners.”  
_ “Whatever it takes is whatever it'll be.” She answered. “Text me when they're near the club.”  
  
When Avalon got back, she and Tommie set about wrapping Dave Norton’s body in black trash bags. The tape managed to hold it all in place- but this wasn't the last step.  
When the cleanup crew came, one of the men was kind enough to haul the plastic wrapped body into the trunk of Tommie’s Fugitive. They stayed behind to clean.  
The office would remain locked to everyone else.  
The drive to the marina in Vespucci Canals was quiet and tense. No radio. No talking.  
Avalon set about renting a boat- telling the employees at the marina that it was a trial run for a ‘company outing on a midnight cruise’.  
  
The dead weight was hard for the two of them to move inconspicuously. But they did it.  
Three miles from shore- after having traveled half of the night up the coast to Paleto Bay. The abyssal black ocean full of sharks ,and whatever else, would help tear down a body. With chunks of concrete from the underpass right by the Vanilla Unicorn, the body would be weighed down until it sunk to the bottom of the sea.  
  
“Three, two, one- lift!”  
Together, the two women lifted Dave Norton’s body, Avalon at the head, Tommie at the feet. They moved together toward the edge of the boat and rolled him over the side.  
And watched him sink until he disappeared and only air bubbles escaping the trash bags marked his existence.  
And then the bubbles stopped.  
And Dave Norton was no more.  
The criminals breathed a mutual sigh of relief.  
Avalon sunk down into one of the pleather seats of the boat.  
“We’re not done yet,” Tommie said. “Next is the rest of the evidence.”  
“What's left?” Avalon yawned. It was four in the morning. They only had a couple of hours left of darkness.  
Tommie tossed her the bloody rubber gloves they'd used to package Dave up. “Wipe down the boat with bleach.” She got to work on pouring bleach onto a rag and wiping off any traces of blood from her pocket knife. Tommy had taught her that bleach cleaned blood so well that even black lights couldn't see it anymore.  
Avalon put on a clean set of gloves to wipe down the boat. Entirely. Where Norton was laying, the seats, the safety rails, the steering wheel, the ignition. Everything their hands could have touched.  
Tommie took the last of the things they used to clean the mess, as well as her knife, taped them inside of a trash bag sealed the bottle of bleach shut, and used the weight of the bottle to sink the bag.  
And that was that.  
  
“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Avalon said, staring over the side down into the water. As if waiting to see if the body and evidence would float back up. “I won't tell Ace. You can't tell your mom, Blake, your stepdad-"  
“Avalon,” Tommie groaned. Exhausted. Trying not to fall asleep where she sat at the wheel of the boat. It was so comfortable. “I already told you. We finish this, and we're done.”  
“But you _helped_ me.”  
“I don't want you in prison because I don't wanna be in prison _next to you._ We're not partners anymore. I never wanted a partner.”  
  
It was eight AM by the time they moored the boat at the marina.  
They paid the employees extra money to keep that off the record- and fabricated a lie that they were lovers who just wanted a night alone on the water.  
  
It was nine AM when they got to the Vanilla Unicorn. Tommie had asked Amanda to lock the doors at the end of shift just before she and Avalon left.  
They found the office spotless. Like the murder never happened. A quick check on Tommie’s bank account showed that he paid them- and himself for the finder’s fee.  
“I guess that's it, then,” Avalon yawned.  
“I guess it is,” Tommie replied. Irritable.  
“What are you gonna do?”  
“Does it matter?” Tommie asked. “We deep-sixed a man tonight. I could step in ten different piles of dog shit today and it would be the high point of the last eight hours… Give me your key.”  
The key to the Unicorn.  
Avalon looked hurt and exhausted, but nevertheless worked her copy off of her keyring. “I didn't want any of this to happen,” she said, choking back tears. Whether it was because she was exhausted and overwhelmed, or just frustrated that her partner had never trusted her enough to keep her. “I take as much pride in this place as you do, Tommie.”  
“I'm sure you do,” Tommie replied. And took Avalon's key. “But this is too fucking much for me."  
"Can you at least call me if you change your mind?"  
"We'll see. If we aren't arrested."


	11. Territorial

“Wow, you look really...” Simon trailed off, not sure where he should look. The dress was so damn sequined that it threatened to blind him in the right lighting. “ _Shiny_ .”  
“Like a new penny,” Tommie smirked, eyeing the copper colored sequins on the torso of the black garment- and flipping her middle finger at Simon when she noticed his eyes moving downward. “ _Up_ , genius. Look _up._ ”  
“What? You know human eyes are attracted to shiny things.”  
“We’re keepin’ it _professional_ . Got it? We’re at work.”  
“Word of warning, I’m not that professional.”  
“It’s okay,” Tommie smirked, “Neither am I.”  
  
“Turn your head to the left a little bit and tilt your chin down… Good, stay right there.”  
Tommie held as still as she could, lying across an antique-looking chaise lounge. Something that must've cost several thousands of dollars alone with how ornate it was.  
Several clicks of the camera, then the photographer re-positioned herself to take more from a different angle.  
  
It had been one month since they’d killed Dave Norton.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she could spot Simon in the background taking a picture of the set with his phone, and then presumably send it to someone. Most likely his mom. He said he’d mentioned the new job to her and she wanted to see what it was like. This was their third shoot where he acted as her manager- and he did a good job of it.  
“Aaaaaaand I think we’re done here,” the photographer said, staring down at the screen of her camera. “Next step is editing. And that’s actually out of my hands.”  
The Gusset corporate employee who had asked her to come left her spot on the sidelines beside Simon. “Fantastic, we’ve just got a few more outfits for you to demo. What do you think so far?”  
“It’s really cool,” Tommie grinned, hiking up the very bottom of the dress so she could walk over without stepping on it. “These are going online? They’re not gonna be edited _super_ heavy, are they?”  
  
The clothes were beautiful- and a little uncomfortable if she were being honest. Not her brand of luxury, but she would gladly wear them if ever given the chance to look like a celebrity on the red carpet at the Oriental Theater again.  
She had accompanied Michael, Lita, Jimmy, and Blake on the premiere of one of the movies her stepfather had produced.  
That was what had gotten the attention of the magazines that had interviewed her and gotten this modeling gig.  
Shoutout to Michael. He could be a real dick sometimes, but he knew all the right people around Vinewood. His social network had given her an edge.

It had been a month since Tommie had last spoken to Avalon. And she often wondered what the older woman was doing for money.  
  
“I’m out of a job, baby,”  
“Is that a bad thing?” Ace asked. “‘Cause R kinda sounded like a bit of a cunt anyway.”  
“She wasn’t _that_ bad,” Avalon shrugged. “But she could be. She’s got small man syndrome.”  
Ace snickered, turning over in bed and laying an arm over Avalon’s waist. “I think you’ll be fine. You can work with me and my crew on a few jobs.”  
The people she’d killed a man for. And they may never know.  
“You think they’d have me? Former FIB?”  
“Babe, we’re all a little fucked up in my crew. Nona- you remember Nona? The mute? She’s datin’ an IAA agent. Guy’s a complete dickhead but she loves him.”  
“Seriously? She’s that far in with the IAA?” Things were starting to add up. Avalon wondered if their relationship was what started the IAA using the crew as contractors. Or vice versa.  
“We all kind of are,” Ace admitted, unaware that Avalon had already known. “They pay. _Real good too._ Our girl Jess is outta town for a while- and we _need_ our fifth person at this point.”  
“Y’know,” Avalon yawned, turning over to face Ace and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I think I’ll take you up on it. I could use something different.”  
  
“Hey, losers,” Ace greeted her group as she and Avalon entered the upscale apartment near Richards Majestic. Avalon kept her mouth shit about Tommie living in the same building. “Brought my girl to make some cash!”  
“Didn’t realize we were bringing guests to jobs now,” the older man, Graves, muttered.  
Avalon was previously surprised to learn that they had _two_ silent people in their group. Nona and Mick. Who communicated primarily through sign language. Though Nona kept an app on her phone to speak to anyone who didn’t understand it. “Maybe next time we rob a bank, I’ll bring my granddaughters.”  
“Ha fuckin’ ha, old man,” Ace sneered, leading Avalon over toward the large L-section couch.  
“I’m actually _in_ the game,” Avalon smiled. “We didn’t really get to speak much last time we met.”  
“You’re right, we didn’t,” Graves replied, offering a hand to her. She shook. “Arthur Graves. I’m the driver,” he motioned to Mick sitting on the side, hyperfocused on his phone in his hands. “And that’s Nick Williams. Goes by Mick. Our tech guy.”  
Mick glanced up from his phone at the utterance of his name and gave Avalon a polite smile before going back to the device.  
“Avalon Charles,” she said. “Former FIB.”  
Her attention shifted to the tall mute woman, Nona, coming out from another room with her phone in her hand.  
_“We’ve heard,”_ a digitized woman’s voice read from her phone. The warm smile on her face made Avalon ever regret even debating taking Dave’s job. _“Ace talks about you a lot.”_  
Avalon turned to Ace with a grin, seeing the woman’s face as pink as her hair as she stuttered out: “C-Could we just go over the job?”  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lucky to dress like somebody who’s broke,” Tommie groaned, just as she sat down with her latte in hand. “I can only speak for myself, but I thought being rich meant living in _comfort._ ”  
“I mean you looked good, so I think that’s all it measures up to for other rich people,” Simon replied, idly tapping the side of his coffee cup with his thumb. “Wish I could afford that kind of stuff.”  
“I _am_ paying you that kind of salary,” she chuckled. “You should do something nice for yourself.”  
Simon smirked. “Yeah, like what? Sit down at the Unicorn and _pay_ to look at the tits for once?”  
Tommie laughed. “I mean, you can get an employee discount.”  
Simon grinned and lowered his head onto the table. “You’re gonna charge your _manager?_ Cheap ass!”  
Tommie's smile dropped when she locked eyes with a familiar face who walked out of the Bean Machine.  
“Blake!” She put a small smile back on, getting up out of her seat to greet him with a quick peck on the lips.  
“Hey babe,” Blake greeted, taken aback by seeing her unexpectedly. He nearly spilled his coffee on his clothes when she hugged him. “What’cha doing downtown?” He noticed Simon, sitting at the same table she had gotten up from. “Who's this?”  
“This is Simon,” Tommie said, “he’s my manager. I had a modeling gig today and I like having him with me for… administrative purposes.”  
Blake and Simon seemed to measure each other up.  
“‘Sup?” Simon greeted, getting up out of his seat and moving to shake Blake's hand. “Simon Meyer.”  
Blake accepted the handshake. “Blake White. How long you been working together?”  
“Nice to meet you,” Simon said. “Been about a month and a half. Tommie talks about you a lot.” He added, wondering if it could break the tension.  
It did not. “She hasn't mentioned _you_ before,” Blake replied, earning a look of dismay from Tommie.  
He seemed pleased with himself.  
Why the fuck was he acting like this?  
Simon gave him a smile and a short hum in reply, but Tommie could see in his eyes that he wanted to clap back with something equally as cutting. “I let my work speak for itself. You have a nice rest of your day, _bud_ ,” he said instead, turning and going to sit down again. Tommie noticed the tension in his shoulders as he did.  
“Blake, what the fuck?” Tommie whispered.  
“You never mentioned a random ass _guy_ working this close to you,” Blake replied, motioning to the table where Simon sat with his back to them. “Is _t_ _his_ working?”  
“We just finished a shoot,” Tommie said. She didn't like what Blake was insinuating. In fact, it pissed her off so much that she just didn't even want to deal with it right now. “We’ll talk about this later. You're late for _work_.”  
Blake seemed extremely unsatisfied with that answer. “Yeah, guess we will,” he said. “Love you too,” the sarcasm in his tone as he walked away lit a fire inside of her.  
But mostly just made her feel like a shitty girlfriend. “Love you _more!_ ” She called after him, turning and muttering “don't gotta be a dick about it" under her breath before sitting down with Simon again.  
“Nice guy,” Simon said dryly. “When's the wedding?”  
“You wanna tell me what the fuck that alpha male bullshit was about?” Tommie retorted.  
“What? Guy sees his girlfriend with her secret guy friend out in town. Secret guy friend is kinda sexy. Boyfriend gets jealous and territorial- what's hard to get?”  
He just called himself sexy. What a turd. “I've been with Blake for a year, he should trust me.”  
“ _‘Should’,”_ Simon nodded. “But _does_ he?”  
Apparently not.  
“And you never mentioned me to him? _Why, exactly?_ ” Simon had anticipated an answer involving he had admitted attraction to her- or that she may have felt the same.  
“It's better that he _doesn't_ know I'm hanging around Trevor's son.” Tommie groaned and propped her elbow up on the table, hand under her chin. "He never liked Trevor. Or that we were together."  
And noticed someone at another table. Otherwise inconspicuous, save for that she was holding her phone in a weird way.  
Like she was trying to take a picture of Tommie and Simon.  
And when Tommie looked at her, she changed her position when she was caught.  
… Was she being spied on?  
  
Avalon's heart may as well have jumped out of her chest with how hard it was pounding. This group rolled _hard_ for their money.  
Still being shot at by Merryweather forces as the plane took off.  
They'd stolen one of the last few planes Merryweather even had left in San Andreas now that they were shutting down many of their U.S. operations. A Titan.  
Ace seemed happily in her element in the cockpit. Moving fluidly on the controls and switches as though she were born to fly. She got them off of the ground within one minute.  
The rest of the crew, Avalon included, slumped into seats in the back, tired. Coming down from the high of a good steal.  
Avalon was actually surprised at how good of a shot Nona was despite needing glasses. She'd actually saved Avalon on more than one occasion today.  
“Thanks for having my ass back there,” Avalon said, still on edge but coming down.  
Nona replied with a sincere grin and a thumbs up before turning to her phone. Mick was focused on his phone again as well. and Graves was idly staring out the window at the landscape down below.  
Avalon decided she would go up to the cockpit.  
“Knock knock,” she said as she allowed herself in.  
“Well hello,” Ace beamed when she heard her girlfriend's voice. “You wanna keep me company?” She tilted her head to the empty co-pilot seat on her right.  
“Only all of the time,” Avalon replied, finally feeling like she could _begin_ to be at ease when she slipped into the leathery co-pilot’s chair. The clouds obscured what she could see, but Ace seemed to have no problem navigating them to Sandy Shores.  
  
Once the plane landed, the buyers (an unknown party), stated that their money would be wired to them through Lester Crest- a name Avalon was surprised that the crew of criminals was familiar with.  
She would have to contact him somehow to make sure she got paid.  
Once the job was complete and they were allowed to leave, Nona pulled Avalon aside and thanked her for her help..  
“I feel like I didn't do as much as I could have,” Avalon admitted.  
Nona nodded her understanding and Avalon waited as she typed something into her phone. _“Ace has good judgment. You did a really good job! If you need more money, you're welcome to work with us again.”_  
Avalon would do a million jobs if it could make up for considering killing someone so sweet.  
  
Later that evening, after everyone had gone their separate ways, Avalon invited Ace to stay the night in her home in Vinewood Hills.  
So after they’d settled in, gotten cleaned up, and had dinner together, they curled up on the couch together, Ace using Avalon’s chest for a pillow, and watched a movie.  
“Betcha he dies in the end,” Ace noted. “He ditched his best friend for the stock market, obviously there’s gonna be some kinda karma.”  
“I mean that’s just how these movies work,” Avalon agreed with a smile, arm around Ace’s middle giving her a small, affectionate squeeze.  
Meltdown was a pretty good movie overall. The part with the girl who never really had any lines was confusing, though. Leave it to Vinewood to throw in any extra trope they knew would make money or drama.  
  
“You got some real nosy neighbors, babe,” Ace noted, having come back from the bathroom.  
Avalon frowned. “What do you mean?”  
Ace motioned toward the window with her eyes, the only window where the curtains were partially open. “Some lady out there keeps lookin’ inside. Like she ain't ever seen a pair of domestic lesbians before.”  
The fuck?  
“That’s weird,” Avalon muttered, looking over toward the window as Ace settled back next to her on the couch. There was no one outside. “You sure you saw someone looking in?”  
“Yeah,” Ace replied. “Honest to god, this lady was lookin’ in here, holdin’ her phone- like she stopped mid- cat video to be appalled at the shameless display of gay affection in your house.”  
Avalon didn’t quite like the sound of that. So she got up from the couch to the window.  
Still no one outside.  
Was she being spied on?  
“I still don’t see anybody, but I’m definitely not into having an audience,” Avalon said, closing the curtains and making sure that no one would be able to see inside. She would follow suit with the bedroom and kitchen.  
Something about this was very wrong.


	12. Fucked Up

After noticing the woman at the cafe, Tommie became much more conscious of her surroundings.  
And felt panic when she noticed the woman leave Bean Machine moments after she and Simon did.  
Tommie didn’t mention it to him even as they were driving-- even when she noticed a car following a little too close behind.  
All of the way to the ULSA campus, where Tommie insisted on dropping Simon off at his dorm so he would safely get inside.  
The car pulled over across the street and parked. Tommie noticed the driver on their phone as she said goodnight to Simon. She also apologized for Blake's behavior, and said she would see him at the club tomorrow.  
  
When she drove home, she noticed that the driver of the other car had followed her for a good stretch of the ride back to her apartment- but then disappeared a few blocks before she pulled into her garage.  
  
“So!” Blake greeted her the moment she entered their home. And then she remembered the earlier conversation. “Tell me _all about_ your guy Simon.”  
Immediately the anger from earlier made its unwanted return. “What do you wanna know, exactly?”  
“Is there a reason you guys are hanging out off the clock?”  
“‘Cause we’re _friends_ , Blake,” Tommie replied with a tight smile. “Is that such a fucking surprise?”  
“A guy friend at a strip club who you never talk about,” he replied. “Sounds pretty legit.”  
“I mean, you can come right out and just say you think I’m _fucking_ him. Obviously your mom got into your head _again_ ,” Tommie retorted, sitting herself on the kitchen counter, across from where he’d set up his laptop on the island. He was working from home. _It never fucking ended with him._  
It’s like his job was more important to him than anything else!  
“I didn’t say that-”  
“Well you’re sure fuckin’ implying it!” Tommie retorted. “If you don't trust me, then why are you with me!? Oh, y'know- earlier at Bean Machine? That wasn't just two people sittin' down with coffee, we were _fucking!_ ”  
“Why do you _always_ freak out like this!?” Blake snapped.  
Tommie silenced, unused to hearing him raise his voice. He’d never shouted before. And it put her on edge immediately.  
“I feel like I can’t talk to you when I’m worried about something because you _always_ blow it out of proportion!”  
“You knew what you signed up for when you asked me to be with you,” Tommie said icily. In truth, this was cathartic. She had always felt like she wasn’t good enough for him- and it was all pouring out now. “All of my _baggage_. All of my _flaws_. You-- _You_ were the one who said you loved me _first!_ ”  
Blake went quiet as well. And they sat there in tense silence for a long minute.   
“I did,” he agreed. “I thought you would’ve worked past all of the baggage and flaws after a year.”  
“I’m still trying,” Tommie replied, arms crossing over her middle. Thumb brushing against her newest tattoo where her bullet scar was on her arm. “Trying is all I can do. I’m sorry if it’s not the speed you want it to be. I don’t feel like I’m getting better. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I even want to anymore.”  
Blake frowned, moving closer to her and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her as if doubting that she would let him.  
But she did, and she held onto him just as tight.  
“I don't even know how we got onto this topic,” he joked.  
Tommie offered a dry chuckle. “Yeah, me either… Sorry.”  
“It's okay,” Blake replied. “... There's really nothing between you and Simon?”  
“There's nothing between me and Simon,” she agreed. “Do you feel better about that?”  
“No,” he admitted. “But I can get over it.”  
  
Over the following weeks, Tommie became extremely aware of people on their phones around her. Observing from a distance. Cars following her to work and home. Eyes on Simon. Strangers wandering into the Vanilla Unicorn and not spending a dime before leaving.  
She began to grow suspicious that _someone_ knew about Dave Norton.  
But there was no evidence that could be linked to her. They had nothing. She was sure of it.  
So she would throw them for a loop and act like a typical twenty five year old woman in Los Santos.  
Her birthday was a few days ago.  
Spent doing nothing thanks to paranoia.  
“T!” Simon beamed, letting himself into her office without knocking- as he often did. He and Amanda were the _only_ people allowed to do that- and he took advantage. He slapped a flyer down onto her desk, and she closed her laptop before picking it up.  
An ad for a night club in Vespucci called Maisonette Los Santos, featuring new acts Dixon and Tale of Us.  
“... What's this for?”  
“I think we should check it out!” Simon suggested.  
“ _We?_ ” She smirked. “Me and you?”  
“We’ll call it a business related field trip to see what draws the crowd over there. Maybe we make one of the DJ's a nice offer? I hear all these people coming into the Unicorn talking about this place. I’ve seen them advertising with a blimp at the pier too. You ever go to Bahama Mama's? I hear it ain't _shit_ compared to Maisonette Los Santos.”  
“ _Really now?_ ” She asked, intrigued now. True, it wouldn't be a bad idea to check out how the new club in town was doing. She recalled Avalon going to the very premiere of the club one of the last times they'd spoken. “Alright,” she agreed. “Me and you, we’ll do some business reconnaissance this Friday… But I'm gonna have to tell Blake about it first.”  
“He's not letting go of that, is he?”  
“I tried telling him there's nothing here,” she said, motioning between Simon and herself.  
“I mean… _Isn't there?_ ” Simon smirked. “Not to brag, but-”  
“Dude, c'mon."  
  
When Friday came, Tommie had become more or less certain that her act of normalcy was warding off whoever was watching her- because she saw less and less of them.  
Either that, or they were just getting better at hiding.  
Regardless, she was bulletproof. Nothing she’d done over the last two-ish months had been illegal.  
Blake wasn't happy about the outing. But he wasn't much of a club person- and he figured that Simon would _at the very least_ make sure Tommie got home safely.  
And he would text her often to check in.  
As much as she didn't like the lack of trust, she would comply. What choice was there?  
  
When they entered the club and made their way down the stairs, they stopped at the beginning of the dance floor and took it all in. The lights, the LED screens with Dixon’s graphics constantly flashing. The colorful clothing, the neon body paint on the girls dancing on the platforms.  
“Whelp! Let's get started on recon!” Tommie called over the music, heading back where they came from.  
“Where you goin’!?” Simon asked.  
“We’re at a club!” Tommie smirked. “I'm gonna get a little fucked up!”  
Simon grinned as she headed for the bar, looking up at the ceiling, addressing whatever forces lie beyond sight. “ _You don't have to keep reminding me she's fuckin’ cool._ ”  
  
At least she was having a good time. Four strong drinks in and counting. Simon was just as trashed. It was a good thing they didn’t drive there- because heading home would’ve been a problem.  
“This place is fucking great!” Simon slurred. Struggling to be heard over the bump of the bass. They sat next to each other at the upstairs bar, frequently turning to watch everyone on the dancefloor grooving to Tale of Us’ mix. They’d arrived toward the end of Dixon’s set.  
_  
“Wish you were here”_ Tommie’s outgoing text to Blake said, including a selfie of her and Simon in the background, making faces at the camera with their drinks in hand.  
“I’d come here every fuckin’ week,” Tommie agreed with Simon, glaring down at her phone when her message from Blake came.  
_“How much are you drinking?”  
_ As if that mattered. It’s not like she was going to get too trashed and stay out all night.  
“You wanna dance?” Simon asked, looking over at her with a forced aloof glance. He hadn’t seen her dressed up before outside of modeling gigs. It felt odd to see her so feminine, but he really liked it. Maybe he was just drunk.  
“You know I don’t dance,” Tommie smirked, lips against the rim of her glass.  
“How about just one?” Simon asked. “Because it’s Friday night and nobody here knows either of us.”  
That probably wasn’t true.  
Tommie didn’t doubt that whoever followed her around had been at Maisonette Los Santos too.  
Watching from some dark corner of the club.  
“Well-” Acting normal in front of prying eyes was the best move. “Fuck it, let’s go.”  
“YES.”  
  
It felt so weird to dance- like she didn’t have any kind of rhythm after not moving for so long. Still, she and Simon were a little too drunk to care. Just focused on having a good time instead. Nobody in the club even paid them any mind- just another couple of anonymous, moving bodies in the throng.  
And it was _fun!  
_  
They’d stuck around on the dance floor for a few songs, then decided to keep their buzz going at the bar. Tommie sat in one of the bar stools, legs outstretched over the stool beside her to save Simon’s seat while he went to the bathroom.  
“Tommie!”   
She couldn’t be sure, but she looked up when she thought she heard her name. And saw Blake making his way over to her, nearly bumping into a drunk couple of guys who were making out up against the railing for the upstairs.   
“Blake!” Tommie beamed, unaware that she was drunk enough that her speech was slurred. She was so wrapped up in having a good time that she’d lost track of how many drink she and Simon had. A mistake she hadn’t made in quite some time.   
“I thought I should come get you!”   
“Why?”   
Blake noticed how she swayed in her seat, head tilted a little too far to the side when she asked the question. Intoxicated. “How much did you have to drink? Where’s Simon?”   
“Bathroom!” She answered. He’d been gone for a few minutes now. How long, exactly?   
Blake assumed that Simon had left her there. “You didn’t say you’d be getting fucked up.”  
Tommie shrugged. “I thought that was a given! I didn’t wanna come here alone. You’re always busy! I’m having so much _fun_ , though!” She adjusted the slipping strap on her shoulder, glancing down to pull up the top of her dress.  
"... You're shitfaced."  
" _Fuck yeah, I am!_ " Tommie laughed before Blake grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of her seat. "Where we goin'?" She slurred, stumbling brieﬂy before regaining her footing and following behind him.  
"We're going home," Blake said sternly.  
Tommie, too far gone to read the mood, broke into a fresh ﬁt of giggles as they went downstairs, and then up the other flight of stairs that led to the exit.   
She assumed that the urgency meant that Blake wanted to get her in bed. "Shit babe, how bad do you want it?"  
"I'm putting _you_ to bed and going back to work."  
"What for!?" She whined as they stepped outside the doors of Maisonette Los Santos. The line of people outside, as well as the bouncer, were too wrapped up in their own business to care about the arguing couple on the way out  
"Because you're too drunk to even walk straight," he pressed the unlock button on his keyfob and opened the passenger door of his car for her. He had parked in the lot behind the club. "So shut up and let me take care of you."  
"I'm _ﬁne!_ " She insisted, complying anyway and getting into the passenger seat. One less thing to be lectured about later.  
Blake got behind the wheel just after. "No you're not- look at you, you're too fucked up to even function!"  
"God- _fuck you, Trevor!_ You don't own me!"  
Blake froze as he went to buckle up, looking back at her like a kicked dog. "What'd you just say?"  
"You don't _own_ me!"  
"You just fucking called me _Trevor_ ."  
"What- no I didn't!" ... Did she? She already couldn't remember. She drank too much and it made her short-term memory a little fuzzy.  
"Yes, you did." He frowned, turning away from her and muttering to himself. " _Fuck!_ "  
"I'm sorry!" She defended, "you just sounded so much like him for a second that I guess it slipped out-"  
"It's been over _a year and a half_ since he died, Tommie!" Blake snapped. Usually so patient and soft spoken, it was unlike him to raise his voice. So much so that she ﬂinched. "A year and a half and you're still so hung up on fuckin' _Trevor_. I didn't know him- but all I ever heard from you was that he was a fucking asshole who didn't care about you."  
"I never said _any_ of that!" Tommie retorted. Defending Trevor was reﬂexive- even after all of this time.  
"You didn't have to, I could fucking see it every time you came to me with a problem _he_ made for you," Blake replied. "Fuck... You still love him, don’t you?"  
Tommie's heart felt like it sunk from her chest to her stomach. Painfully sobered by his accusation. She couldn't just tell him that she did- it would only hurt him. And she couldn't lie to him and say that she didn't. That would hurt herself. "I don't know what to say..."  
"Yeah. Neither do I."  
Tommie felt sick to her stomach. The anxiety of this moment didn't mix well with all of the different types of liquor she’d mixed.  
  
They maintained silence for the drive home. Blake stopped the car outside of the ground ﬂoor of the building, and Tommie hesitated to get out. "I'm sorry. I'm a fuckup, I know. Just... I really.... _Loved_ him, Blake. I loved him so much- and we were gonna go somewhere else together and have a whole life. And he just died so suddenly and so _horribly!_ ” And she lost his baby in the same week “... It's too soon to say I'm over it... I don't know what to do."  
"I know," he said slowly, rubbing his eyes with both hands before dragging them down his face. Dread. "I wasn't your ﬁrst choice. I'm still not."  
"That's not true," she quietly disagreed.   
"Feels like it is," Blake replied, looking over at her for a long second. "All of the time, I’m fucking reminded that I was your backup plan. That I just happened to be the right idiot in the right place at the right time. I tried to forget about that because I _wanted_ you that much... I wanted to _marry_ you, Tommie."  
"Blake..."  
"I _really_ love you," he said. "And I thought about it for so long. I was gonna ask you soon..."  
"I love you too, Blake. I really do..."   
She felt like she couldn't look him in the eyes.   
Ashamed in the knowledge that she loved him- _second_ to Trevor.  
“ _Do_ you love me or am I just all you have?”  
She looked over at him in shock. The question cut so deep that it threatened to bleed her dry. “I-”  
"Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just go to bed."  
She opened the car door and slipped out. "Please come up with me."  
"I gotta go back to work."  
"Call off. We need to talk about this."   
"No," he said ﬁrmly. "I just-- I need to go. I gotta think."  
"All you ever fucking do is work, Blake!" She cried, exasperated. “What about _us?_ Why does it always feel like you use your job as an excuse to run away from me!?”  
"I need something that's mine _alone._ ” And that was the last thing said that night. Blake drove away in silence, Tommie hanging back and watching his tail lights disappear around the corner.


	13. Pancakes

Avalon grunted under the weight of the crate as she and Ace lifted it into the back of the beaten up Vapid. The white van had seen better days. Poorly patched bullet holes and a cracked rear window told the story of how it had been repeatedly used to ship marijuana across San Andreas under gunfire.  
“That's the last one,” Ace sighed, patting the dust off of her palms against the sides of her jeans. She slammed the back doors of the scraper up van and slapped her hand against the side.  
The driver took it from there. And soon the shipment disappeared down the highway, heading for Los Santos.  
Avalon yawned, eyes straining against the bright sunlight.  
  
Two months since they killed Dave Norton.  
Two months since she had spoken to Tommie.  
As far as she knew, no one had been watching her since the night her neighbor supposedly looked into the window.  
  
“Whelp!” Ace sighed, sliding her phone from her back pocket and checking the time. Seven AM. They'd been awake since four. “We finished a lot quicker than I thought. Wanna go get some breakfast?”  
“I'm _so_ hungry,” Avalon nodded. “Where's a decent place to eat out here?”  
Ace led the way back toward the weed farm, keys in hand, ready to lock up. “There's this place I like near Grapeseed. A lil' mom and pop kinda place. Might not be your speed, but…”  
“Nah, I love that kind of thing!” Avalon beamed, standing behind her girlfriend as she locked up. Of course, not without eyeing her as she did. She thought Ace had the _best_  curves- even if they were subtle.  
Ace smiled at her once she finished locking up, taking Avalon by the hand and leading the way toward her truck. A dirty red Canis Mesa she was very attached to.  
Avalon left her Buffalo in Los Santos. Too high profile for out in Blaine County.  
  
The Park View Diner in between Sandy Shores and Grapeseed was busy at that hour on a Saturday morning. Lots of older people, as well as young farmers, visited for breakfast on a daily basis.  
The smell of pancakes made Avalon's stomach growl in anticipation.  
“Mornin’ Auri,” The elderly waitress approached the table, legs stiff with age from what Avalon could tell.  
“Mornin’, Miss Loraine,” Ace greeted. “How's Ed doin’?”  
“Still bitchin’ about Mr. Jakowski on the radio. Ain't seen Trevor in a while so Ed ain't on the verge of a heart attack no more,” Loraine replied, eyes down on her notepad to take their order. She used the back of her pen to scratch her scalp through her thin red-dyed hair. She realized she didn't recognize Avalon. “Mornin’, hun. Never seen you ‘round here before.”  
“Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” Avalon smiled.  
“This is Avalon,” Ace said with a wide grin. “My girlfriend!”  
“Nice to meet you, darlin'. Y'all gettin’ married? I heard you can do that _everywhere_ now.”  
“We’ll see how things play out,” Ace replied, smile not dropping for even a second when she glanced at Avalon- whose cheeks were a deep shade of red.  
She had the feeling this was an indication of a future together.  
  
The sunlight in the crack between the curtains was what brought Tommie to consciousness at long last.  
Painful, painful consciousness.  
She turned over to face away from the beams of sunshine that Saturday morning. Her head hurt.  
Her phone was the only other occupant on the bed. She checked her messages- there were three.  
All from Simon.  
_“Where did you go?”  
__“Are you okay?”  
__“Did you get home?”  
_ She felt awful for not letting him know where she was sooner. He must have thought she ditched him at Maisonette.    
She began to write out an apology, until the bedroom door opened and Blake quietly came in.  
“Hey…” Tommie groggily said.  
“I can't stay to talk,” he yawned. Still wearing the clothes he had on the night before. Back from the office. Ready for bed. Except he didn't even go back to work last night. He had called off, and decided to find a place to go be alone instead. “I just came to check on you.”  
Tommie sat up in bed, only in her underwear. She had stripped down to fall asleep comfortably. She didn't even remember getting in bed. Just getting home. “Last night-"  
“Let's not go over it again,” he said. “I think maybe…” He sat on the edge of the bed and passed her a discarded T-shirt that had been on the floor. Which she put on as he continued. “Maybe this is just not working.”  
“Maybe,” she agreed. Head pounding from hangover and stress all at once. “... We might've entered this relationship and moved too fast.”  
She recalled Avalon's words.  
She had only entered this relationship to fill the void left by Trevor Philips.  
“It wasn't just that,” Blake said.  
“I _didn't_ cheat on you.”  
“I don't mean _that_. It's that I can't stop thinking of- all the things you said you did. Robbing a bank. Hurting people. Killing people... You and I aren't just on different pages, we're in entirely different books. I said I was okay with it before, but... I wasn't. I'm not.”  
“I'm not a good person.”  
“The self pitying bullshit is part of it too,” Blake said. “You say you wanna get better but you seem like you just _love_ being miserable. You practically fetishize being this doomed, unhappy person by making the same choices over and over again and then complaining about where you end up. You became this severe alcoholic in place of drugs- I don't think I've seen you without a drink in your hand in the last six months. I can't watch you poison yourself- because it just makes me feel like I wasn't good enough to help you be happy.”  
Tommie silenced as she listened to him.  
These were things she told Trevor once or twice. Almost verbatim.  
They went quiet for a long minute. Tommie moved from the middle of the bed to sit beside him on the edge. “Do you think we can be friends after this?”  
“I don't know,” he replied. “I think it's too soon to think about that. I'm gonna get my stuff and- stay at my mom's, I guess. Until I find a place of my own.”  
“I'm really sorry, Blake.”  
“It's not your fault,” Blake replied, looking at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy- like she'd been crying since he'd last seen her. Even now, he could see that she was blinking hard to keep from welling up. “It's nobody's fault. Shit happened to you and you don't know how to fix what it left behind. Sometimes things just don't work out the way you want. It spiraled... Maybe this is the break in the cycle.”  
He got up off of the bed and went to gather up his clothes from the closet.  
“Blake?”  
Her voice stopped him, and he looked at her over his shoulder, lifting his glasses to rub his tired gray eyes for a moment.  
“I want you to do better than _me_ ,” Tommie said. “And better than Maria Brightmann. You deserve someone right for you... You're a really good person. And I never thanked you enough for putting up with me for this long.”  
“Thanks,” he said. “I really hope you find what you need to get better.”  
“I'll keep trying. Thank you.”  
  
When Blake was gone and she was alone, Tommie finally remembered to send a message to Simon.  
_“I'm sorry about last night. I had to leave really suddenly. I was too drunk to remember to message you.”  
_ It took a few minutes, but Simon replied. _“What happened?”  
__“I got dumped.”  
_ A response only came seconds later. _“Oh shit, are you okay?”  
_ No. _“I'm fine.”  
_ She took the chance in between messages to go take a shower.  
Anything to wash off the feeling she had. A few glasses of water and some painkillers helped mask the hangover.  
She looked at her phone again when she was dressed.  
_“Open up.”_ _  
_Just what the fuck.  
She heard the soft thud of knocking on her apartment’s door, raising in volume before lowering and raising again. Annoying.  
_Jesus._  
Tommie groaned as she strode through the apartment to answer the door.  
“ _Ayyyyy!_ ” Simon greeted from the doorway, hand still hovering in the air where the door swung open. He looked hung over. Just as much as she felt.   
“What do you want, Simon?”   
His smile dropped. “I wanted to make sure you were good.”  
“I’m great,” she insisted.  
“You look like you’re gonna puke, cry, or maim someone.”  
“D, all of the above?”  
Simon replied with a hollow chuckle. Even when she was upset, she had room for humor. “Can I at least bring you out for breakfast? Something to eat might make you feel better.”  
“This whole thing’s ruined my appetite.”  
“Do it for the hangover?”  
She leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossing. “Are you gonna keep asking if I keep saying no?”  
“Uh. Yeah? Obviously?”  
She groaned. “Fuck. Man. Fine.”  
  
He sure ate fast...  
Tommie was maybe halfway done with her pancakes by the time Simon had already demolished his plate. On his second cup of coffee.  
“Jesus, your poor mom must’ve spent a fortune feeding you,” Tommie muttered.  
“It’s how I got so tall,” Simon winked, sliding his empty plate over to the edge of the table so their waiter could easily grab it. “Maybe eating so little is what made you turn out so _short_.”  
“Ha fuckin’ ha, I hope you hit your forehead on a low doorway.”   
Simon observed her as she drank her coffee. Seeming to abandon her half-eaten food in favor of caffeine. “Look, I think we should talk about the elephant in the room.”  
“Which is...”  
“Is it my fault you and Homeboy broke up?”  
_Homeboy?_ “No. It’s mine.”  
“He was _that_ mad about you hangin’ out with me? It’s not like we fucked or anything.”  
“It’s not because of me and _you_ ,” she clarified. “It’s because of me and _Trevor._ ”  
Simon’s expression dropped. “Oh...”  
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I thought maybe… Blake could do with less complications in his love life. So… It’s just me now.”  
Simon sighed and leaned back into the pleather booth, hands in the pocket of his LS hoodie “I gotta ask. Is this a _huge_ loss? Was Blake even like-- a _good_ boyfriend?"  
"What?"  
"Like, did he take you on dates?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Make you feel better after a shitty day?”  
“I guess...”   
“Buy you flowers?"  
"Who actually _does_ that?"  
"... No one's _ever_ bought you flowers?"  
"No?"  
"... Noted."  
" _Don't!_ "  
"Too late--" his expression shifted into a grin. “Oh shit, I got you to smile.”  
She realized the grin on her face and immediately stopped.  
“Aaaaaaand it’s gone.”  
  
“I got more jobs lined up for you!”   
“I don’t think I wanna get in front of a camera,” Tommie replied, hunched over at her desk. Same day, several hours later. Headache lingering.  
Simon sat himself in one of the two seats across from her at the desk. “I think it might help,” he offered. “Routines and stuff, right?”  
“... Where are the jobs?” Tommie sighed, head still down on the desk.  
“Got one for Anna Rex, one for The Gash,” he replied, looking over his phone. “Also, a guy in Mirror Park wants you for some artwork.”  
She lifted her head. “... _Artwork?_ ”  
“He said he wants the challenge of ‘painting your tattoos’,” Simon said. “I asked him what the pay was but he hasn't gotten back to me yet. He was really vague about it. Sounds like an artsy version of ‘send nudes’ to me.”  
“I dunno...” She mused, arms crossing on the surface of the desk. Simon had to resist the urge to tease her for the red circle on her forehead where it’d been against the desk. “Someone wants _me_ for actual _art_. Not for something that’s going to be edited and used to sell something else.” There was something humbling about that.  
He could see how flattered she was by the idea of someone wanting to paint her.  
… Like, shit, she hadn't even met the artist yet and already the guy was smooth as _fuck_. He'd have to keep that in mind next time he wanted to get someone in bed.  
“I’ll set you up for it,” Simon nodded. Unable to resist the urge- “ _Let’s get you painted like of those French girls._ ”  
“... You giant fuckin' dork.”  
  
“You're a huge dork,” Ace teased, noticing how fascinated Avalon was with the view of the night sky. They'd decided to take a cable car to the top of Mount Chiliad. Since Avalon had never been there. They'd spent all day out and about. After the weed offload was done, there was nothing but time. They'd just followed the highway along the coast toward Paleto Bay. They'd even stopped at the beach for a short while, just to enjoy the view.  
“It's not dorky to love the moon!” Avalon defended, play-pushing Ace when the pink haired woman giggled in reply.  
“I just never figured you for the hippy type!” Ace grinned. “What else’re you into- witchcraft?”  
“ _Voodoo_ ,” Avalon corrected.   
Ace thought she was joking. She definitely wasn't.   
“The moon controls the tides and is a symbol of femininity,” Avalon continued. “She's powerful and beautiful and romantic. And everyone sees her as being so _valuable_ that they fantasize about being able to lasso her out of the sky to give to their loved ones.”  
Ace looked on as her girlfriend looked up to the sky.  
Pretty brown eyes and shiny lipgloss reflecting the light, hands clasped attentively in front of her middle. Like the full moon was for one night only.  
She was so beautiful that Ace felt like she had goosebumps down her arms.  
“I love you, you're so cute.” Ace felt herself blush when the words slipped out. Her mouth had been faster than her brain in that instant. And she couldn't filter herself.  
She felt like a deer in the headlights when Avalon turned her gaze toward her instead. A look of surprise on her face. “Really?”  
Ace found herself nodding, otherwise frozen by fear of rejection. “Really...”  
Avalon may as well have jumped on her, throwing her arms so tight around Ace that it threatened to topple her over. “I love you too,” the words were muffled against the shoulder of her denim jacket.  
Ace let slip an anxious giggle, and Avalon followed. Soon pulling back to look at each other. Avalon had started crying. But there they were, laughing.  
“Oh my God, stop crying!” Ace beamed. “You big _baby!_ ”  
“Fuck you, I love you!” Avalon grinned, leaning in and stealing a kiss. Pulling back soon after, with love in her eyes. “I love you.”  
Ace had never felt so blissful. “I love you too.”


	14. The Other Way Around

It felt terrible to lie to her about why they hadn’t seen each other in so long.  
Tracey sighed and adjusted her sitting position. Starting to show now that she was just over three months pregnant. She knew that the club wasn't _so_ busy that the boss couldn't take a day or two off. Tommie had isolated herself- from everyone. Lamar hadn't seen her since the reveal, and neither had Michael or Lita.  
They’d gone to Little Portola to buy supplies for the baby. Tracey had to stop occasionally thanks to nausea- but now that she had some food in her stomach, she was feeling better. For now.  
“It's just that we _really_ miss you. Lamar asks about you a lot.”  
“How's he doing?” Tommie frowned, leaning forward in her seat. Last she saw him, she was doing a shitty job of reassuring him that _she_ was fine. She felt selfish for not checking in with him more often to see how he was doing.  
Franklin hadn’t spoken to her personally in… A long time. Relationships between herself, Franklin, and Michael were strained since Trevor died. As if _she_ was never truly considered a part of the group. Just Trevor’s ‘Plus One’.  
“Lamar's been good!” Tracey replied, sipping at her water. She had become so conscious of everything she ate or drank since she became pregnant. Bordering on becoming vegan because she wasn't sure if meat and eggs were bad for babies. “He's still going out with Juana. Kind of. They've been on and off for the last few months.”  
Tommie nodded. They'd been together for about two years now. “Maybe she wants to get married and he doesn't?”  
“Other way around, actually,” Tracey said. “He's been talking to F about getting a ring but she said she doesn't wanna settle down.”  
Tommie shrugged. “It's not for everybody.”  
“What about you?”  
“Well I'm single again, so…”  
“ _What!?_ ”  
“Yeah. Blake and I are done.”  
“Since when?  _Why!?_ You two were so…” Tracey wanted to say they were perfect together. But she knew it wasn't true. She knew from experience that Tommie had always kept Trevor on her mind. She talked about him almost every day in the first few months since his death. It still happened from time to time, but she mostly began to _internalize_ her feelings. Tracey often wondered if Tommie _thought_ she’d taken advantage of their friendship. She always seemed to disappear after any talk that was more in depth than 'how's the weather?'  
“We wanted different things,” Tommie said. She wondered if she should share the following information- but Tracey was her friend. And stepsister. Fuck it.  “You'll never fucking guess who I met, though.”  
“Who?”  
“Trevor had a twenty six year old son he didn't even know about.”  
Tracey almost lost her hold on her glass of water, and it visibly slipped an inch out of her grasp before she caught it  “Holy _shit_ \- really!? Does anyone else know!?”  
“ _You're_ the only one who knows, so keep it on the DL,” Tommie said. “His name’s Simon. He works for me now.”  
“What’s he look like? You got any pictures of him? Oh my _god,_ does he look _just like_ Trevor?”  
“Kinda- I got lots of pictures,” Tommie nodded, sliding her phone across the table and slowly swiping through her photos. There were at least a dozen with Simon in them. Some with herself- but mainly him.  
“Are you and him going out?”  
“ _Nooooooo!_ ” Tommie winced. “That would be too weird.”  
“Well yeah- but look at him. He's cute- and healthy looking. And in a good age range. And-"  
“But he's Trevor's _son,_ ” Tommie said. “He's great, and if I felt okay with it, I'd go for it, but… He’s not _Him._ ”  
Tracey frowned, laying a hand on Tommie’s arm for half a second. It didn't take a genius to see the morality debate in Tommie’s expression. “I know you loved Trevor. But it's been almost two years. It's not good for you to hold onto this.”  
“ _I_ think it is,” Tommie said. “It reminds me not to do any of the dumb shit I did before.”  
And yet here she was: one drug deal, one dead FIB agent, and one drunken breakup later.  
That's a lot of dumb shit.  
Nothing changed.  
_She_ hadn't changed one bit over the last five years.  
  
It felt bad to be the friend who bummed everyone out.  
Maybe that’s why Franklin didn’t talk to her anymore.  
Maybe that’s why Lamar didn’t either.  
Maybe three months away wasn’t enough.  
Maybe she should just never come back.  
Maybe the little voice in the back of her head was right… They’d be happier without her.  
  
  
“Nervous?”  
“Startin’ to feel it, yeah,” Tommie nodded. Noticeably fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Two weeks had passed since Simon had booked her the art job.  
She picked up her newly prescribed glasses this morning.  
She spoke to Tracey yesterday.  
Still felt awful- and Simon had convinced her to leave her apartment to make this job happen; because he knew she cared about it. If he hadn’t, she’d have stayed in bed all day.  
Adjusting to the lenses was making her dizzy.  
“You can always back out,” Simon offered. “There wasn't a contract here or anything. He knows you haven't done this before.”  
“I don't back out,” Tommie replied.  
“Even when you're not being paid?” He had been very surprised when she said she would do this pro-bono.  
“Even when I’m not being paid,” she confirmed as they entered the art studio in Mirror Park.  
  
“Hey, nice to meet you!” A bleached blonde woman happily greeted as she approached Tommie and Simon and offered her hand to Tommie first. “Ms. Vercetti, right?”  
“Yeah, you can just call me Tommie,” she replied, shaking the woman’s hand. “Or Rosa, doesn’t matter which.”  
“And you’re Simon?” The blonde asked, hand out to Simon next. “I’ve been emailing you- I’m Shaun.”  
“Shaun?” Simon frowned.  
“Guy name, I know,” Shaun shrugged. “My parents were _really_ hipster- so of course, I kind of am too... You ready for this?”  
“As ready as I can be,” Tommie gave her a nervous smile, following as Shaun led the way further into the studio. To an open door. “I've never modeled for something like this before, what do I do?”  
“Just do what feels comfortable,” Shaun said, stepping inside the room. Brightly lit with natural light from a big window. “I know undressing in front of a stranger isn’t exactly _comfortable_ , but you only have to go as far as you like.”  
The room was a stark white on all four walls. Dark hardwood floor- and the only objects in the room were a bar stool, an easel and paint, and a chair beside it.  
“Are you staying with us for this?” Shaun asked Simon as Tommie moved over to the bar stool. Presumably where she'd sit.  
“Yeah, I'll stick around,” Simon shrugged. “Wouldn't wanna wait in the car anyway.”  
“Sounds good,” Shaun beamed as she moved to the easel- Tommie wished she could be that upbeat of a person.  
Shaun picked up a folded rubber apron off the floor beside the easel and put it on over her clothes.  
Simon stood by, eyes down on his phone as he had a silent conversation through text.  
“Whenever you’re ready,” Shaun said.  
So with an anxious deep breath, Tommie began to undress.  
As soon as she kicked off her shoes and they thudded on the hardwood, Simon glanced up from his phone- eyes noticeably widening when he saw her working on kicking off her jeans.  
“You don’t need it all off, just what you’re comfortable with,” Shaun reminded, preparing her work space.  
“‘Kay,” Tommie replied, tossing her pants on top of her shoes, following with taking her shirt off and doing the same. New glasses sitting on top of the pile.  
She hesitated to go further- but decided that for the hell of it, she’d go braless too. Fuck it. It’s art. Might as well make it artsy.  
As she reached behind her back to unhook the garment, she caught a glance of Simon looking at her- and she froze when the straps fell halfway down her arms. They looked away from each other- and Tommie felt color rushing to her face.  
This felt a little weird.  
But not _very_ weird. She chalked it up to the new concept of being considered art worthy in any way.  
People only ever wanted to see her naked when they wanted sex.  
This was different.  
When she dropped her bra onto the pile of clothes, she stood by a little awkwardly- wondering if she should ditch the underwear too.  
She caught Simon trying his hardest not to stare- but definitely sneaking glances.  
Nah, she could leave the underwear on. Leave a _little_ something to the imagination.  
“What should I do?” She asked.  
“You can sit down if you like,” Shaun offered. “Just make yourself comfortable. We're gonna be here for a while. A lot of the time people just sit or lay on the floor- since the stool doesn't have a back. Sometimes their backs start to hurt from staying still.”  
“I think I can tolerate it,” Tommie said, sitting on top of the stool.  
“Are you okay with sweeping your hair behind your shoulders? I just wanna see as much of your tattoos as I can.”  
Tommie saw Simon glance at her again, and he turned away to finish sending a text. On the shy side for someone who talked a big game.  
“Sure, this is a ‘tits out’ look anyway so I might as well, right?” Tommie replied with an anxious chuckle. She pulled her hair back. She kept her arms close at her sides as if it'd cover her up- though it did little more than just push her breasts together. This was weird- like there were no right moves to keep from feeling awkward or exposed. But she was surprisingly okay with it. This was _about_ being exposed. Making a statement. So she’d let Shaun work.  
And while Shaun put her brush to the canvas, Tommie frequently glanced at Simon. Who seemed to be trying to focus on his phone. Poorly.  
… And some part of her liked that he wanted to see her.  
  
“ _Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck_ , I’m surprised you stuck around the whole time,” she anxiously laughed as she and Simon left the art studio. The painting wasn’t quite finished, but Shaun would invite them to the art show where it would be premiered. “Any excuse, right?”  
“My ass!” Simon snickered, play-pushing her to the side as they walked together back to her car. The thought occurred to him that they'd seen each other mostly naked by now. _Funny_. “I just wanted to make sure you were good. If you were uncomfortable, I’d get you out immediately.”  
“Awww, aren’t you just the sweeeeeeetest?” She teased, trying to reach to pinch his cheek- but was stopped by a red-faced Simon swatting her hand away. “Hey, it’s still kinda early. You wanna hit a bar?”  
“Aren’t we driving?”  
“We can park at my mom’s place and walk to a bar on the Boulevard!” Tommie suggested. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”  
  
And it _was_ fun.  
Tommie, knowing that she was safe with Simon, didn’t bother to observe how much she had been drinking. But then again, neither did he.  
Both too drunk to remember that calling a taxi was an option, they wandered down the road toward a cheap hotel and decided to stay the night and sleep it off.  
But not before stopping at a tattoo shop- trying their hardest to seem sober while Simon got a simple $50 tattoo. Of course, because Tommie loved the feeling of the needle on her skin, she got the same as Simon.  
A stylistic number six.  
Seemingly random, but that’s why she liked the idea in her state of inebriation.  
  
The next hour or so afterward was a blur. And the next thing Tommie knew, they were checking into a hotel for the night. They’d sleep off the liquor, and go out for a hangover breakfast in the morning before she’d take Simon back to campus.  
“Why a six?” Tommie slurred as they walked up to their hotel room. With how little room she had left on her arm, she’d opted to get her six tattooed onto her rib cage- just under her bra on her right hand side. “It’s not like a weird cult thing, is it?”  
“It’s my lucky number,” Simon replied, unable to stop grinning as he stared at the black ‘6’ on the inside of his right forearm. Only his second tattoo ever.  
“What’s so lucky ‘bout it?” She asked in a sing-song voice, struggling to get the door to their room to read the key card. On the fourth attempt, it finally opened and they let themselves in.  
“I’ll tell you ‘bout it laaaaater.”  
"Fuuuuuuck, I'm gonna be so _miserable_ tomorrow!" Tommie laughed, turning on every light in the room simply on impulse. " _Just_ from how much we drank! Never mind the _rest_ of my fuckin’ life!"  
"Fuck tomorrow, I’m livin’ for _today!_ " Simon beamed, arm around her shoulders to support her wobbly frame. How much did she drink, exactly? It was probably a good idea to put her to bed before she got the idea to drink even more.  
He brought her over to the bed and helped her get comfortable. She kept drunkenly giggling each time he was close to her, like she was expecting more than just some helpful gestures.  
"You're completely shitfaced," he slurred.  
"Not _completely_ ," she smirked. "Just enough to be in my happy place." She shifted onto her knees on the mattress and pulled him in by his sleeve. "C'mon, lay with me..."  
He thought to question it, but did it anyway. Tommie made room for him on the bed and they laid side by side on the sheets. Eyes up on the ceiling in the fully lit room.  
"I'm not tired," she said.  
"I'm tired as a motherfucker," Simon replied.  
"Can you stay up with me?"  
"Eh… I'll try."  
Tommie turned onto her side and laid her arm over his chest. "Thank you, Siiiiiiimon," she took on a lovey-dovey tone, cheek nestled against his shoulder. "You're the _best_ ."  
He couldn't help but grin to himself at the compliment, hand settling on her thigh and squeezing gently. Affectionately.  
"I like you," she said after a long silence.  
Simon had been dozing off. But her voice brought him back. "Hm?"  
Tommie's hand left his shoulder and moved up to his cheek. She pulled him in closer to kiss his jaw. Not just once, but a few times. Long and slow.  
His brain seemed to go into autopilot when she found a particularly sensitive spot at the very top of his neck. He emitted an involuntary noise of approval.  
“Whaaaaat’re you doin’?” He chuckled, eyes closed. Fuck being awake, this was lulling him to sleep.  
“Why don’t'cha kiss me and find out?” She whispered, turning his head toward herself and pressing her lips against his.  
Simon’s heart throbbed in his chest, finding himself melting into it and going as far as kissing her back- and everything was right...  
Until it wasn’t.  
“Let’s not do this,” he muttered.  
“If it’s because we’re drunk, I don’t really care,” Tommie replied, opting to kiss the side of his neck again. "I've done worse."  
“No, 'cause I have a girlfriend now.”  
“What-"  
“Yeah, I've been going out with Layla for like the last week and a half.”  
“... Oh… Oh fuck, I’m _so_ sorry, I had no idea-” Tommie ground out the words, moving away from him, face red in humiliation, turned onto her side to try to hide it. Why _Layla?_ Why hadn’t he mentioned it before!?  
“No, no, it’s okay,” Simon said, hand on her back. “I know I didn’t say anything about it. It’s brand new, but-”  
“I feel like such an asshole!”  
“Why, ‘cause you told her I’m gay?”  
_Oh. Right._  
Tommie was at a loss for words. Caught. And unable to dig herself out of this hole with a lie. Why was lying her _first_ idea for everything?  
Why was she like this?  
“I’m not _mad_ about it, just real fuckin’ confused,” Simon said, sitting up in the bed, pulling Tommie’s shoulder so that she would turn onto her back. Her hands over her face to hide the shame. “You said I was gay, continued to go out with Blake, and now that you’re single, you try to circle back to _me_ because you thought you’d secured me as next in line?”  
“I swear to god, that’s _not_ what I was doing,” Tommie replied, sitting up as well. On the verge of tears thanks to the combination of being drunk and on the spot. “I just-- I have no idea _what_ I’m doing. I like you... I didn’t expect to. I don’t know why I said you were gay. I’m sorry. I feel really fucking _gross_ about it and I can’t apologize enough-”  
“I’m not _mad_ about it,” Simon said. “I just wanted to know why you said it. It wasn’t because I pissed you off or something? It wasn’t vicious intent?”  
“I promise it wasn’t… It was just-” she groaned, unable to face him. “I didn’t know how to cope with liking you. I still don’t. Because you’re Trevor’s _son._ And you’re kind of like him in a few, small ways. And _he_ was my first choice over Blake. And the similarities have me fucked up, and- I don't know why, I just couldn't deal with the thought of seeing you with someone else, and-”  
“I get it, c’mon,” he said, laying an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in until she was leaned against him. “Shit’s fucked, I know.”  
“I’m sorry, I don’t _ever_ even know what the fuck I’m doing anymore!” She sobbed, hiding her face in his shirt to conceal that she’d begun crying. It didn’t help that Simon could feel the moisture of her tears through his shirt. But she’d taken advantage of the moment of reassurance and wrapped her arms around his middle. “I don’t know what I want- I just don't wanna ruin _your_ life too!”  
Simon let slip a good natured laugh. He figured she’d held all of this in for a long time. She seemed to under-react when things ended with Blake. It was all coming out now. Where was the idea of ruining his life coming from? “You didn't ruin anything! I promise, it's okay... I got you.”


	15. Ruin

The rest of the night had been a blur of tears and venting.  
But when Tommie woke up in the morning, she noticed that she and Simon were still wrapped around each other. A glance at him showed that he was still asleep.  
And she had a headache that she’d felt for the last hour or so of _sloooooooooowly_ regaining consciousness. She shifted to turn away from him.  
She had to adjust her-- no, _his_ hoodie. She’d put on the orange sweatshirt sometime before they’d fallen asleep. She had puked at some point. And had the shivers. And he put it on her.  
She felt like garbage. As needy and clingy as Trevor had been. Only worse.  
Because she’d _sunk_ to that level, and dragged Simon into it.  
Tommie sighed, getting up off of the bed and having to hold an arm out to steady herself. Still a little drunk, she assumed.  
Even the muted sunlight coming in through the sheer curtains was killer on her eyes.  
“‘Morning, drunkie,” Simon sleepily greeted, following with a yawn.  
Tommie felt dread in her chest. She’d…  
She’d shown him her real self last night. And she didn’t like it. She didn’t need _anyone_ to know that about her.  
Yet it was cathartic.  
“Feel better?”  
“Yeah,” she lied, pulling her messy, tangled hair behind her shoulders before putting her shoes on.  
“You sure?”  
“ _Yes,_ ” she insisted. “I think I need some time alone.”  
Simon got off the bed from the other side, stepping into his shoes as well. He checked the time on his phone. The clock on the nightstand was wrong. Ten in the morning.  
“I dunno,” he said. “With what you said last night, I think you’re just trying to continue a cycle.”  
“How much _did_ I say last night?” She asked, looking out over the lively streets below to hide that she was too embarrassed to make eye contact.  
“Lots,” Simon replied. “About Trevor. About your dad. Your mom. Lots of other shit I barely remember.”  
Fuck. “I’m a fucking idiot. I’m your _boss_ who dragged you into some emotional bullshit when I was on a bender from my life falling apart. Not very professional, huh?”  
She spotted someone on the street.  
Looking back up at her.  
Phone in hand.  
Whoever her stalker was, they were getting more bold with how they chose to observe her.  
Asshole.  
She pulled the curtains shut and walked away from the window.  
“I’m gonna call you a cab back to campus,” she said, taking her phone from the side of the bed she’d slept on.  
“Not gonna drive me back?”  
“I think I’m gonna take some time to say hi to some family. I haven’t seen them in months.”  
Simon sighed. Dissatisfied with the lack of resolution. And… Maybe a little bothered that Tommie had made a pass at him and he couldn’t do anything about it. “Okay.”  
She unzipped the hoodie and began to pull it off.  
“You can hang onto that if you want,” he said. “Until we hang out again.”  
“You wanna hang out again?”  
“Obviously.”  
She frowned, fingers gripping the excess material at the ends of the sleeves. “Don’t you need it?”  
“It’s insurance so you don’t just disappear on me,” he replied. After the stories of how she’d essentially ghosted her friends and family over the last few months, he felt like he needed some kind of guarantee that she’d let him near her again.  
  
“You should probably start drinking _water_ instead of beer,” Ken Rosenberg said, unable to stop smirking at Tommie's obvious hangover as he set a bottle of water in front of her.  
Sitting together at his table.  
“Beer is just _good_ water,” Tommie chuckled, downing a couple of painkillers for her pounding headache. No longer certain if it was from her hangover or from stress.  
“What's the occasion for the visit?”  
“I just… Haven't seen you or CJ or anyone else in a long time,” she said. “I feel bad about that… I haven't even seen my mom in a while.”  
“Why not?”  
Tommie shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. “It just makes me feel bad.”  
He frowned. “Okay… But _why?_ Did you fight again?”  
“No,” she replied. “She's just so happy now that she's with Michael. I don't wanna ruin it for her by being _me_.”  
“You don't ruin anything,” Ken said firmly. “When Lita was pregnant she didn't even _kind_ _of_ regret coming here to have you. She-”  
“If she didn't feel obligated to _me_ , my dad would still be alive. Just… I ruined their lives right from the start, before I even had a pulse.”  
Ken silenced.  
And they sat quietly for a long minute.  
“I came to talk to you because I feel like I _can't_ talk to her… And fuckin’ _Michael_ too. He hates me. I know he does. He can't stand spending more than a few minutes with me at a time. It's like I can't even be around anymore and-- I just miss having my mom...” Tommie blinked back tears of frustration, head pounding harder with a surge of emotion.  
“Tommie…”  
“But I can't just go back,” she said, turning her head to swipe her fingertips across her wet eyelids. “I drag _everyone_ down. I've dragged _you_ down. I’m fucking selfish and I feel like such a piece of shit for it.”  
Ken went quiet, figuring she needed to let out the words. How long had she thought like this?  
“It's my fault Tommy died, it's my fault Trevor died, it's my fault Blake is gone. It's my fault I ruined all of my friendships… I ruin everything. Is this just who I am now? Am I fucking _doomed_ to be this miserable person for the rest of my life!?”  
“Of course you’re not-”  
“I am so sick of hurting people. I _don’t_ wanna be like this anymore,” she said, leaning forward with her head in her hands. “But I don't know what to do to be better.”  
Ken sighed, chair creaking under him as he leaned back. Tommie had always been a depressive sort of person- but usually she abused some kind of substance to try to hide it. The evidence being drugs, liquor, and the tattoos down her arms. This was the first time he'd seen her actually _speak_ about it instead of trying to bury it.  
And he regretted not knowing what to tell her. He never thought _he_ would be the one she finally vented to. The ‘family’ had always anticipated it being her mother.  
“What do you _think_ you need to do?” Ken asked.  
“I think… I should go away,” she said. “Los Santos just isn’t where I should be. I think- I think I need to be somewhere else.”  
  
It was the first time she’d been back to Los Santos in over a week.  
Avalon woke up in her own bed, beside Ace, who was still sleeping comfortably. Avalon had half a mind to take a picture of her while she slept- she was so cute.  
Instead, she carefully lifted herself up out of bed and headed out to the bathroom to get ready for the day. They didn’t have any plans yet- but they’d come up with something to do. They always did.  
The thought made her smile as she passed through the narrow hallway between the bedroom and bathroom- stopping halfway when she heard a knock at the front door.  
Odd.  
She wasn’t expecting anyone. And her neighbors usually kept to themselves… Aside from the one Ace had seen looking into the window. She was never able to pinpoint who that was.  
As she came near the door, a piece of paper was slipped through the narrow crack at the bottom. Avalon chose to look through the peep hole when she approached. Seeing only the back of a black hoodie as they walked away.  
Sketchy. Yet familiar.  
She picked up the paper from the floor.  
  
_SANDY SHORES AIRFIELD, TOMORROW AT 2300. COME ALONE._  
  
… Why the fuck…?  
Which asshole would be so dramatic as to leave her a fucking note?  
… Tommie Vercetti would.  
Avalon turned over the note in her hand. It wasn't handwritten. Instead typed out and printed.  
“Sorry, R,” Avalon muttered, ripping the note in half as she walked to the kitchen. “Too late to beg me to come back now.”  
While she dropped the note in the garbage, Ace left the bedroom and stole her spot to be first in the shower.  
  
SANDY SHORES AIRFIELD, TOMORROW AT 2300. COME ALONE.  
  
Tommie stared down at the note, having stepped on it when she came home that morning.

… So did this come yesterday or this morning? Which fucking ‘tomorrow’ was it?  
Whoever her stalker was, they were a fucking idiot. Must’ve been new to the stalker game.  
Tommie crumpled up the note and threw it aside to the floor.  
If they wanted to blackmail her. Maybe they wanted to kill her. Fuck it. Let them try.  
She wasn’t afraid.  
  
Blindly so.  
So over the next couple of weeks, Tommie found it difficult not to be impatient when she saw glimpses of Simon and Layla together at the Vanilla Unicorn. The added stress of finding more notes telling her to go to the airfield throughout that time wasn’t helping.

… She hated feeling jealous.  
Worse yet, they had admitted to mutual attraction. They’d even kissed.  
“Make it a double,” Tommie said, approaching Amanda at the bar. It was the end of the night. And Amanda would be closing.  
“Something wrong?” The older woman asked, pouring vodka into a tall shot glass. “You usually save doubles for bad days.”  
“Nope, having a great day,” Tommie shrugged. “ Life has nowhere to go but up.”    
She had no plan.  
All she had was money… Which _would’ve_ been enough if she were feeling reckless.  
Instead… The thought of getting ready to leave all of this behind left her in a strange, new sense of calm.  
“Hey Tommie,”  
She turned her head when she heard Simon come up beside her. Suddenly craving another drink. They hadn’t spoken much since the hotel. “Hi Simon. What’s goin’ on?”  
“Can I talk to you real fast?” He looked… Upset…?  
Shit.  
She hoped it wasn’t about that night. “Yeah…?” A quick goodnight to Amanda and they left the bar, heading nowhere in particular, just walking side-by-side. Work was over, so they were both about to head home for the night. “Is everything okay?”  
“Yup,” he said, expression grim. “Everything’s great. You wanna hang out?”  
“Right now?”  
“Yeah,”  
“Uh- sure,” she replied, brows furrowed. “What do you wanna do?”  
“Drink,” he answered. “Your place?”  
“ _My place?_ ” She frowned. “Are you fucking okay?”  
“Is it weird to wanna hang out with you?”  
They reached her car and she shrugged.  
Whatever. She didn’t have much longer in Los Santos anyway. She might as well spend time with him while she could. “Alright, let’s go to my place, then.”  
__  
“-off the coast of Paleto Bay earlier this evening,” the TV screen showed a photo of two men on a fishing boat. _“Two local fishermen out on their routine cruise bit off more than they could chew this morning, after having managed to hook a small shark-”_  
“Isn’t fishing for sharks illegal?” Simon slurred. Two hours later at her apartment, they were both drunk. Though Tommie had been careful to not let herself drink too much. The last thing she wanted was to make another terrible decision with him.  
“I’m pretty sure it is.”  
_“-shark appeared to be close to death, so they decided to euthanize it on the spot. Soon after, they decided to butcher the animal in order to sell the meat, but found something that would make even the most iron-stomached fisherman sick.”_  
The screen went to an interview with one of the fishermen, an older, salty looking man with a scraggly beard and a baseball cap. _“-my son and I cut open this shark and we just see this-- this human_ _hand_ _fall out of its stomach.”_  
Tommie froze as the reporter continued voicing over images of the hand inside of the shark’s viscera. _“The owner of the severed hand is still unknown, but forensics has estimated that the tissue had been dead for approximately three months. Investigators are scanning the area for the possibility of more human remains. This has been Raleigh Potter with Weazel News.”_  
Tommie hadn’t noticed her jaw clenching until she felt her teeth grind against each other.  
“Well that’s fuckin’ gross,” Simon snickered. “They’re gonna have to look through a lot of fish shit to find the rest of that guy!” He looked over at Tommie, wondering why she looked so tense. She’d been tense all night- but this was just bizarre. “You okay?”  
“Yeah,” she quickly replied, voice coming out a little higher pitched than she’d have liked. “Just… Thinking.”  
_They found Dave Norton. TheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNortonTheyfoundDaveNorton-_  
“Thinkin’ about what?” He asked, leaning over against her. Drunk. Happy to be there.  
He’d broken up with Layla earlier that night. She was possessive. Didn’t like that he didn’t always answer his phone right away and sometimes forgot to text back. Good riddance to a controlling partner.  
If she weren’t so checked out lately, she might’ve read further into why he wanted to spend time with her tonight. And if she weren’t so panicked right then, she would’ve read into why he was so close.  
When she mentioned _‘thinking’_ , he assumed it meant she wanted to talk about the night at the hotel.  
“I need to talk to you about something serious,” she replied, picking up the remote and turning off the TV just before turning to face him. Legs up on the couch and folded. She grabbed a pillow off from the side and set it in her lap.  
“You love me, I know,” he joked, deciding to lean in the opposite direction, using the pillow at the other end to prop himself up.  
She sighed, reminded of his father. “This is serious. Like- life changing serious.”  
Simon frowned, sitting up right. “Shit, okay- what’s wrong?”  
“I need you to know some things about me,” she said, eyes down. She didn’t feel like she’d be able to speak if she was looking at him. “First: I’m a criminal.”  
It sounded so cartoony when she said it that way.  
Simon snickered at the notion. Clearly not believing her. “We’ve all pirated movies and music, Tommie, you’re not a-”  
“I’ve _killed_ people, Simon,” she interrupted, looking up at him at last. Anxiously chewing the inside of her lips.  
Maybe it was because he’d been drinking. But he looked like he was still trying to find the joke in her expression. He would not.  
“... Seriously?”  
“Seriously,” she confirmed. “That-- that fucking hand they found? One of ‘em. One of like… Twenty something, I lost track.”  
“All at once!?”  
“ _No_ ,” she said. “And it was self-defense, he was trying to blackmail me! He was a piece of shit federal agent and-”  
“You killed a fucking fed!?”  
“I did what I had to do to survive!”  
“So- what- you’re gonna tell me _you_ ate the rest of him or something?” He looked disgusted by her confession. So many questions, and he didn’t even know where to begin asking them. “It’s no wonder you were with Trevor, you’re just as fucked as he was!”  
“I guess I fucking am!” She snapped, getting up off the couch. “I wanted you to know the truth so you would know to stay away from me. I’m leaving town anyway, so- Fuck, why did I even bother telling you!?” She thought back on how she had confessed her sins to Blake, and he had accepted her… At the time. “Now get out!”  
“You’re leaving town?” He asked, exasperated, as he got up from the couch too- nearly falling over in the process. He shouldn’t have drank so much.  
“Yup!” She said, pushing him toward the front door. “I’m not gonna be your problem, or anyone _else’s_ anymore! There’s the door! By leaving and never seeing me again, you won’t be implicated or questioned or any of that other shit! If anyone asks, we were never friends! Now get! Out!”  
She shoved him out the front door and closed it before he could even say anything more.  
She leaned against it, feeling worse than before. Regretting saying anything at all.  
It was better that he knew.  
There wouldn’t be any ‘what ifs’ if he was repulsed by her.  
This was closure.  
She just had to keep telling herself that.  
She’d be fine.  
She-  
_Knock knock._ __  
__  
The quiet rapping on the door broke her train of thought.  
Simon rested his forehead against the other side of the door. “Tommie… C’mon, I gotta talk to you.”  
“This is me saying goodbye, Simon. You need to go.”  
She could hear him sigh through the two inches of wood. “Can you open the door so we can do it the right way?”  
She opened her mouth to answer several times- closing it each time she reconsidered what to say.  
With an anxious sigh, Tommie took her weight off of the door and slowly opened it, finding Simon on the other side.  
“ _Goodbye_ , Simon,” she said, eyes down in shame.  
“You know why I wanted to get drunk and hang out tonight?” He asked.  
She sighed again, clearly unable to avoid further conversation. “Why?”  
“Had a shitty day,” he said. “I wanted to do something that made me feel better. And I have fun around you… And even though I know I don’t measure up to Blake or _Trevor_ , I know I like you. And I know you like me. And I thought-- ‘hey, this can go somewhere now’.”  
“I don’t think it can now.”  
“Probably not,” he agreed. She said she was going away. “…So can we just pretend for a minute that you’re staying and you have a clean criminal record?”  
She shrugged, assuming he had something to say. “By all fuckin’ means.”  
“Cool,” he said, stepping closer and lifting her head to kiss her.  
Tommie gasped against his lips but didn’t try to stop him. She didn’t want to. Heart fluttering in her chest, eyes falling shut, reminiscent of a few weeks ago when everything was _perfect_ in that ten second window at the hotel.  
“What about Layla?” She quietly asked, having pulled back.  
Simon had tried to follow the movement to continue. Eager. “We broke up like six hours ago, it was a whole thing.”  
At least her conscience could be clear of that.  
They kissed again, Tommie slipped her arms up around his shoulders. And was rewarded with his hands on her hips pulling her against him.  
They moved back inside the apartment together, and Simon threw the door shut behind his back. They moved together toward the couch, Simon sitting down and Tommie making herself comfortable on his lap. Lips not separating the whole way.  
“I think it’s safe to say our friendship is ruined,” Simon murmured, hands moving up the back of her shirt to unhook her bra while she busied herself by kissing his jawline.  
Tommie reached behind her back to help him undo the three small hooks. “I ruin everything anyway.”  
  
“Are you still thinking about leaving?” Simon asked, working on re-buckling his belt.  
“It was already decided,” Tommie replied after pulling her shirt back over her head.  
“Who’s gonna run the Unicorn?”  
“Not gonna be my problem,” she replied. “Everyone should be able to find work around town. I bet Maisonette Los Santos could use some staff with how busy it is.”  
“Where are you gonna go? Am I gonna see you again?”  
Tommie froze, having been pulling her shorts halfway up her legs. “I don’t know.” She sat down. “I don’t have a plan.”  
“Well- I wanna see you again, obviously,” Simon said, dropping onto the couch next to her.  
The corner of Tommie’s mouth raised into a smirk. “I know. I wanna see you too.”  
“Can we still talk when you ‘disappear’?”  
“I dunno yet,” she replied. “There’s some details I’d have to work out… I know a guy who can hide me and find you.”  
“That might’ve been less intimidating an hour ago.”  
“I thought you would never wanna see me again an hour ago,”  
“Well-” He tapped the side of her head. “Begone, thought.”  
Tommie let slip a sincere laugh. “You fuckin’ dork.”  
  
They had to say goodbye, or else they would never separate.  
It was bittersweet, of course.  
Being able to kiss him and be honest about her feelings for him- only to likely never do so again.  
As soon as he was gone, she regretted everything.  
She had only given herself something to miss.  
He told her to keep his orange hoodie.  
And when she went into the bedroom and put it on, she felt a wretched combination of sorrow and euphoria with how it smelled like him even though he was gone. Lying in her bed. Thinking of him. How exciting it was to be able to kiss him, to touch him. It wouldn’t have felt real if it weren’t for the soreness on her collar bones where he’d left several dark hickeys.  
The memory of his hands on her was so fresh that she could practically still feel them there. And she missed that.  
Maybe she loved him.  
  
_Ping!_ __  
  
Her phone went off beside her on the sheets, and she hurried to pick it up- somewhat expecting it to be Simon texting her.  
But it was Avalon.  
  
_SANDY SHORES AIRFIELD, TOMORROW AT 2300._  
  
Tommie glared at her screen. She’d been getting pieces of paper in the mail or under her door every few days since the first letter. And now this.  
Christ, at least she knew it was Avalon now.  
If she wanted to beg for her job at the Unicorn, fine. Tommie could hand the whole fucking thing over to her. 


	16. Dead To Rights

_SANDY SHORES AIRFIELD, TOMORROW AT 2300._   
  
Avalon glared at her phone, unhappy with the sight of a _digital_ copy of the same message she’d been getting for weeks. This one came last night.   
The ‘from’ line was what surprised her, even this many hours later.   
_Tommie Vercetti._ _  
_ _  
_ Dramatic little bitch must’ve wanted a meeting that badly.   
Alright, fine. Maybe she’d humor her. Hear her out and then shoot her down in person to _really_ send the message that she was happy working with Ace and her crew.   
“Hey, baby?” Avalon called.   
“Yeeeeeeeeeees?” Ace replied from outside on the porch. She always went outside to smoke- even though her neighbors had hated the smell of weed.   
Avalon had grown used to it. Tommie had frequently come to work after smoking as well.   
The Haitian woman stood on the other side of the screen door, taking a moment to enjoy the silence of the desert at night. She stayed at Ace’s trailer a lot specifically for the blessed silence. No traffic, just the occasional car. “I’m gonna be going to LS later tonight,” she said.   
Ace didn’t _need_ to know about the meeting. It would be less complicated if she and Tommie just never met in person.   
“Sounds like I’m not comin’,” Ace frowned.   
“I’m gonna check on my place,” Avalon lied. “I want to make sure it hasn’t burned down.”   
“Why would it burn down?”   
“No reason,” Avalon shrugged. She glanced at her phone. It was a little after ten. An hour until the requested meeting time.  “I might end up staying there tonight. I’ll let you know, okay?”   
Ace didn’t look convinced. But she nodded anyway, flicking the ashes off of the end of her lit joint before smothering the smoldering end on the siding of the trailer and shoving what was left into her pocket. Why would Avalon lie to her? “Well… Alright. But if y’need anythin’...”   
“I’ll call you,” Avalon nodded, tying back her hair with the band she’d had around her wrist.   
Ace opened up the screen door and stepped inside. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”   
“Ninety-nine percent sure,” Avalon replied, pursing her lips. “I’m just gonna check to make absolutely sure.”   
  
As Avalon went to get dressed, Ace sighed and went to the fridge to look for something to drink.   
Ugh. The smell in there…   
She reached into the back of the fridge to find some leftovers that had been forgotten over the last week. She’d have to take this out _now._ She opened up the trash can and prepared to throw the food out- freezing when she spotted a folded of paper.   
She’d seen ones like it in the trash over the last few weeks. But never paid any mind to them. Some were folded, some were torn.   
She decided to see what it was. Why would Avalon be covertly throwing out notes?   
_SANDY SHORES AIRFIELD, TOMORROW AT 2300. COME ALONE._ _  
_ What the fuck was this?   
Ace’s brows furrowed as she looked at the page. And then dropped it into the trash again, followed by the rotten food.   
She had a bad feeling about this.   
  
Tommie didn’t think much other than what she could say to Avalon as she approached Sandy Shores. She’d been driving for hours. Why’d it have to be out in the middle of fucking nowhere? Why couldn’t she have come to the Vanilla Unicorn and called it a night?   
Whatever. The sooner she gave away the club, the sooner she didn’t have to worry about it anymore.   
She could be out of San Andreas by the end of the week.   
She pulled around the open hangar, spotting Avalon’s Buffalo and parking beside it.   
Avalon was not inside the car.   
Tommie groaned and left her Fugitive, hands in the pocket of Simon’s hoodie. Hers now.   
“Avalon!” She called. “I’m here! The fuck do you want!?”   
“Tommie?” Avalon’s voice came from inside the hangar, where’d she’d been examining the rusted biplane inside. She emerged from the dark hangar, turning off the flashlight on her phone when she spotted the younger woman. “What do you mean ‘what do I want’? You asked _me_ to come.”   
“I definitely didn’t,” Tommie narrowed her eyes. “You sent me all those messages telling me to come here.”   
“I didn’t send anything,” Avalon said. “Look,” she approached Tommie, holding out her phone to her to show that she had received the text from her phone number, saying to meet her tonight. “See? This is from _you_ .”   
Tommie felt dread in the pit of her stomach. “... But I didn’t send that.”   
  
The sound of a gun cocking pulled their attention to the far side of the hangar. The abandoned blue and white RV beside it hadn’t raised attention before. But now a young woman was coming around it, pistol trained on the two criminals. “I did,” she said.   
Tommie had recognized her. The light brown hair, the same face. This was the woman who had been stalking her for weeks.   
Avalon recognized the black hoodie. She’d seen the same hooded person through the peep hole when the letters started. Ace had mentioned seeing a woman outside of her home in Vinewood Hills, watching them through the window. “You’ve been stalking us,” She muttered.   
“I’ve been watching,” the woman clarified, freeing a hand from her pistol to take a badge out of her pocket. “Agent Diane Grimes, FIB.”   
Avalon and Tommie both tensed once the agent showed her badge.   
“Well, Agent Grimes,” Avalon spoke slowly, trying to see if she could dig them out of the mud, raising her hands and nudging Tommie in the side to do the same. “Is there a _reason_ you’re pointing a gun at us?”   
“Cut the bullshit, Charles,” Agent Grimes said, slowly approaching. “I _know_ you both killed Dave Norton. After you left the FIB, _I_ became his number two. He told _me_ explicitly about you. And that you were in Los Santos. And then he disappeared. And then they find his remains in a fucking _shark?_ ” Grimes chuckled. “You must think I’m pretty stupid to try to talk yourself out of this.”   
“I don’t think you have proof,” Tommie interjected, hands up. If she knew anything about the FIB, it was that they were corrupt. If they could comply for now and there was no proof of guilt, they could get off with the help of a lawyer.   
“What makes you say that?” Grimes asked. “I know all about you too, Vercetti. Don’t think I didn’t do my research on _you._ The tax fraud, the rehabilitation, the arrest record, the association with _Michael Townley_ .” She chuckled. “Daddy’s not here to bail you out. Taking _both_ of you in is what’s going to make my career.”   
“You came alone,” Avalon finished Tommie’s thought. “Didn’t you? If you have someone dead to rights, you bring a whole fucking pack of agents. You don’t-”   
“Shut the fuck up and get on the fucking ground,” Grimes ordered, finger moving toward the trigger.   
“Just fucking shoot me and get it over with!” Tommie snapped. “You’d be doing me a goddamn favor.”   
“Tommie, do what she says,” Avalon warned, slowly getting down to her knees to lie in the dust.   
Tommie glared daggers at the agent, following Avalon’s example and getting down. Already wondering how she could get out of this if she could kill the agent then and there.   
“Good, good,” Agent Grimes came closer, brandishing zip-tie handcuffs out of the pocket of her hoodie.   
“Little fuckin’ tight, don’t you think?” Tommie hissed, skin pinched under the plastic.   
“Shut the fuck up,” Grimes replied, moving over to Avalon and doing the same. “Avalon Charles and Tommie Vercetti, you’re under arrest for the suspected murder of Agent Dave Norton.”   
  
“-nything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-”   
Ace overheard a woman’s voice as she approached, having walked to the airfield in lieu of driving. She sensed trouble, and a vehicle’s engine would’ve given away that she’d come.   
Hearing rights being read was never a good sign, especially when you know your criminal girlfriend was there alone.   
Ace approached carefully, hiding behind the trashed blue and white RV, gun in her hand. She peered around the edge, seeing a stranger in a hoodie working to handcuff Avalon- and someone else on the ground beside her. Still reading their rights.   
  
Agent Grimes stood upright after she’d finished cuffing Avalon. “Anything to say, ladies?”   
“I got somethin’!”   
Avalon recognized the fourth voice, as soon as Grimes turned around. “ _AURI!_ ”   
**_BANG!_ ** _  
_ The women on the ground screamed when the gunshot echoed, reverberating from where the sound waves traveled into the open hangar.   
And then two more shots, Ace advancing each time the trigger was squeezed.   
Grimes was on the ground now, twitching. Dying. Her blood saturating the ground and pooling where she laid between Avalon and Tommie. Ace helped Avalon to her feet and Tommie rolled herself away from the blood, hurrying to get to her feet.   
“What the FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” Tommie shrieked.   
“Savin’ your dumb asses, I guess!” Ace retorted, taking a pocket knife out of the back of her jeans and cutting Avalon’s wrists free.   
Avalon spun and threw her arms around Ace, kissing her hard. “Fuck, thank you! I fucking love you, you’re my fucking hero!”   
“ _Hello?_ ” Tommie reminded the couple of her presence. “I’m a little tied up myself!”   
“Mmmmmmhm,” Ace replied, stepping behind Tommie and cutting her free as well. “R, right?”   
“Yeah,” Tommie replied. “And you’re Ace?”   
“Sure am, sweetheart.”   
“Babe, what are you doing here!?” Avalon asked, still coming down from the last few minutes.   
“Y’know, you really are a bad liar,” Ace sighed. “I found one of those notes in the trash. Thought you might be in trouble. And when you said you were goin’ to Los Santos, it just didn’t add up.”   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lie to you!” Avalon cried, overwhelmed. One minute ago, it was all over. And thanks to the love of her life, everything was okay again. “I just- I didn’t know what I was walking into, I didn’t...”   
“It’s okay!” Ace tossed her gun and knife aside, moving over to Avalon again to comfort her. Entangled in each other’s arms. Avalon held tightly enough onto the other woman that Tommie was almost certain that she thought she’d die. “It’s okay now, I promise, I got you...”   
_They really love each other._ _  
_ Tommie looked at the dead agent on the ground. Bleeding out in the dirt. “... We need to get rid of her.”   
“She’s FIB, someone’s gonna be lookin’ for her,” Ace said, rubbing Avalon’s back to try to calm her down.   
“I know,” Tommie said, moving aside and sitting in the dirt. Terrified of repeating all of this. Two FIB agents dead. “... We need to do better this time. They found Norton’s hand in a fucking _shark._ ”   
“I don’t know what to do!” Avalon sobbed, finally starting to catch her breath.   
Ace looked between the two women. Avalon, who was weeping, and R, who was sitting in the dirt and imploding. “I’m gonna make this go away, okay? I know somebody who can help.”   
“You’d do that?” Tommie asked.   
“Yeah,” Ace nodded. “Definitely.”   
“You don’t know me...”   
“Doesn’t matter,” Ace said. “I’d do anythin’ for her. Even if it means diggin’ _you_ out of the shit too.”   
Tommie silenced after that.   
The kindness of strangers.   
Love between two people.   
She felt like she ruined two more lives.   
  
She didn’t go to bed without first walking down the road and taking one last, longing look at Trevor’s trailer. Once again being used as a drug den.   
She had stood outside across the street, watching silhouettes of people inside, listening to muffled music, tears running down her face at all of the memories she was leaving behind.   
Once and for all.   
They all stayed the night at Ace’s place. Tommie slept on the floor in the living room, and Avalon and Ace shared the bed, of course. Ace had spent a long time on the phone, talking to some unknown party.   
In the morning, they got into their cars and followed Ace’s truck from Sandy Shores, along the Zancudo River.   
She said there was a secure location in Lago Zancudo where they could talk options.   
  
Two hours later when they arrived, a woman in a matte black racing helmet that obscured her face, and large tattoos down both arms was waiting for them by the road, sitting on a blue motorcycle.   
Tommie didn’t recognize the woman. At first.   
The mustard yellow T-shirt was familiar somehow.   
She watched from behind the wheel of her Fugitive as the tall woman in the yellow shirt spoke in sign language to Ace, pointing off the road, down the hill. And Ace drove off the road, coasting down the hill to what Tommie could see was an enormous set of hydraulic doors coming open as they approached.   
“The fuck is this place…?” Tommie muttered under her breath, driving onto the non-skid platform after Ace and Avalon’s vehicles.   
She heard the rumble of the woman’s motorcycle soon after, and the blue Hexer was parked beside her before its driver got off and moved to a control panel on the side of the platform. She pressed a few keys and then flashing lights and hazard warnings were deployed, the platform sinking downward- an enormous elevator. The hydraulic doors slowly closed overhead once they were down far enough, and sealed with an impossibly heavy thud. Tommie looked around  the brightly lit underground. Fluorescent lighting like a school or a hospital.   
Once the platform was completely lowered, Tommie, Avalon, and Ace got out of their cars.   
“You’ve made a real fucking mess for yourselves now,” a familiar voice chastised them, and Tommie’s jaw dropped when she saw Lester Crest down underground with them.   
“What the fuck are you doing here!?” She gasped.   
“Cleaning up another one of your messes, apparently,” Lester snapped. “You managed to kill _two_ FIB agents. That’s not easy, so I expect to be paid.”   
“We’re not here to talk payment,” a new voice said, and Tommie noticed a black woman in a blue blazer and pink shirt approach. Neatly dressed, hair perfectly in place, carrying paperwork in her hands. “According to our ‘contact’.”   
“Ace,” Ace clarified. “I’m _Ace._ ”   
“For the record, it’s best that I don’t call you by name. We don’t need that level of familiarity.”   
“Kinda late for that,” a man in a black jacket said behind her, standing close by the tattooed woman in the black helmet as she removed it. A few other people had joined them. An older, dark skinned black man with a shaved head, a young mixed man with dreadlocks and glasses, and a blonde girl around Tommie’s age.   
“Shut up,” the boss lady said back to the guy in the jacket, looking between Avalon and Tommie. “Phoenicia Rackman. Senior agent and director of IAA’s San Andreas division.”   
“IAA?” Tommie gaped, looking at Lester and Ace. “You’re getting the fucking _IAA_ to bail us out of killing FIB agents?”   
“It takes more than a creepy nerd behind a computer to disappear _two_ people who killed _two_ FIB agents,” Lester said.   
“We didn’t even kill the second one!” Tommie argued.   
“Hey...” The agent in the black jacket said. “You’re that Vercetti chick, right? You own the strip club.”   
The woman in the yellow shirt shot him a nasty look.   
“Not that I go there!” He clarified. Tommie wondered if they were dating. “I saw the… Magazine article… Y’know, the one with Avon Hertz.”   
“You knew Avon?” The blonde girl asked, looking curiously at Tommie.   
“We met at a party,” Tommie replied. “Just for that interview… You a friend of his?”   
“I was,” the blonde replied. “I’m Jess.”   
“Jess,” Tommie nodded. “Do... All of you work for the IAA?”   
“They’re contractors for the IAA,” Avalon clarified. “The ones Norton wanted me to kill.”   
Avalon had explained the situation last night over the phone to Mrs. Rackman.   
And because Rackman was grateful for not losing five good contractors, and because she was Ace’s girlfriend, she had agreed to help.   
Ace pointed them out one by one to Tommie. “You got Jess, Nona, Mick, Graves, n’ me.”   
“A whole group of weirdos,” Tommie nodded, genuinely impressed. “You guys managed to piss off a government organization so much that they wanted to blackmail Avalon into killing you… Color me impressed.”   
“It’s not going to be easy to hide you both and let you stay in San Andreas,” Rackman said, looking over the paperwork in her hands. Tommie spotted her name in the text. These must’ve been every possible thing in the world that contained hers or Avalon’s names. Possibly even extended families and every known associate. Every detail of their lives in a stack of papers. “You may need to leave the state entirely.”   
“I’m not going anywhere,” Avalon said firmly. “I left Vice City to come here. There’s nowhere else I can go.”   
“So don’t go anywhere,” Tommie said. “Stay here with Ace.”   
Rackman shook her head. “You can’t-”   
“Yes, she can,” Tommie insisted. “Because I killed Dave Norton. Not her. And she didn’t kill Grimes either… We can say I did that too.”   
Avalon realized where this was going. Of all the times for Tommie to not be selfish- “Don’t, T-”   
“I’ll take all of the blame if Avalon can stay,” Tommie said. “You know it’d be easy to pin it on me? On The Harwood Butcher’s devilspawn kid? C’mon, this shit practically writes itself! Avalon can stay, and you can tell the FIB that The Big Bad Bitch killed two of their agents. And then I disappear! I was gonna leave town anyway!”   
  
Lester and Mrs. Rackman had gotten to work on erasing Tommie Vercetti from San Andreas, and creating a new persona for her to live elsewhere. They’d fill her in on details before the week was over. Any longer and the FIB would likely swarm Grimes’ last location in search of evidence. And they were sure that there was plenty of evidence to fuck all three of their lives.   
And now, deep underground in this…former government facility… Tommie sat by in the room that was like an auditorium. Alone in silence.   
She’d essentially volunteered to be on the FIB’s most wanted list.   
For Avalon.   
“Tommie?”   
And speak of the devil…   
Tommie looked back, turning so that one leg laid on each side of the bench she sat on. She saw Avalon and Ace enter together. “It’s not gonna be ‘Tommie’ much longer,” she said. “What do you want?”   
“I just...” Avalon said, slowly making her way down the stairs to talk to her. Ace followed. “I wanted to ask you why you if you were okay...”   
“I’m fine,” Tommie said. “I’m gonna start new somewhere… It’s exciting.”   
“I don’t wanna sound ungrateful… But why’d you do that?” Avalon asked. “You just-- you gave it up for me. You don’t even like me. You-”   
“You know why I even showed up to the airfield last night?” Tommie asked. “I was gonna give you the Unicorn. The whole thing. I was already planning on leaving San Andreas. I got tired of ruining peoples’ lives.” She stood up. “So I’m goin’ away. As soon as Rackman and Lester set me up.”   
“Are you gonna say goodbye to anyone?”   
“A few people,” Tommie nodded. “Might as well take this chance now, right?”   
She sighed.   
“Avalon… I’d say it was a pleasure working with you, but it definitely wasn’t.”   
Avalon managed a sad smile, pulling Tommie into a hug, which the younger woman decided just to roll with- and even return. “I’m gonna miss you too, Tommie.”   
When they separated, Ace laid an arm around Avalon’s waist- and Tommie noticed. “Truthfully, I’m jealous,” she admitted. “The two of you are so… Cute. And happy- in spite of the complications… I couldn’t make that happen with anyone. So maybe I’m better off on my own. The two of you are right for each other. And… I hope you have a good life together. Get married, adopt some cats or something… A good life. I wish I could’ve had that.”   
And with that, she got one last begrudging hug from Avalon, and shook Ace’s hand.


	17. What Happens In The Dark...

With a fair chunk of money taken from her bank account as payment for an entire new life, Mrs. Rackman gave Tommie a half-inch thick manila envelope with falsified documents giving her a new identity. She’d even chosen her new name.  
A clean slate.  
Never again would she be associated with murderers.  
She kept the file in her car, neatly tucked into the passenger seat as she drove back to Los Santos.  
  
“Hey,” she said, phone connected to the bluetooth in her car.  
_“Oh shit-”_ Lamar answered from the other side of the line. _“You’re still fuckin’ alive! Where you been, what’chu doin’?”_ __  
“I wanted to ask if we could hang out,” Tommie replied, pulling into her garage. “My place? Smoke a little bit?”  
_“Yeah, def,”_ he replied. She could hear the springs of his mattress creak as he got up off of his bed. _“I was just bullshittin’ at home anyway. I’ll be there in a bit.”_  
  
And an hour later, they were already smoking, sitting around lazily on her couch. He brought Chop with him. He had to take the rottweiler back when Tracey got pregnant. She became more sensitive to allergens and broke out in hives a few weeks ago.  
“I thought you didn’t like smokin’ in here?” He asked.  
“I’m moving soon,” she replied, exhaling a cloud after taking a long drag. She watched Chop stare out the window of the apartment down at the street.  
“Where you goin’?” He asked. “The Hills?”  
“I’m disappearing off the map,” she said.  
“Ha fuckin’ ha.”  
“Lamar, I’m serious. I'm going away.”  
“Deadass?” He looked at her like she was crazy.  
“Deadass,” she nodded.  
“When?”  
“I got a few days, I think...”  
He turned more to her in his chair. “Why would you go anywhere? You got everything here.”  
“I did something bad,” Tommie replied. “Really bad. And… I decided to cover for someone else the next time it happened. Because I didn’t want her to have to lose everything. I already lost everything… Might as well minimize casualties, right…?”  
“You’re fuckin’ crazy.”  
“You’re absolutely right, I am.”  
They lapsed into silence for a second.  
“I wanted to see you so I could say goodbye,” Tommie said. “Just you. I’ll get to everybody else later. You were just... The first person I thought of.”  
Lamar sighed, at a loss for words. She’d made up her mind. There was no changing it.  
“Lamar, I wanted to say thank you for not changing on me when Trevor died.”  
“Ro-”  
“And for putting up with me and my stupid bullshit over the last few years. You didn’t have to be so good to me. But you were.” She reached over and set her hand on his back. “... I always said Tracey was my best friend-- and she is. Kind of… But I started feeling left out when she and Franklin got married. He won’t even talk to me anymore half of the time, and everything with her is just ‘so perfect’ and ‘so great’ and I just can't match that energy… But you were always cool. You’re the only friend I ever had that never reminded me of how fucked up I am. You never _acted_ like I was fucked up. _You’re_ my best friend... And... I love you. And I am gonna miss you so fucking much.”  
Lamar smudged out the lit end of the joint on the side of his shoe and dropped it on the coffee table. He and Tommie pulled each other into a tight hug, holding on for a long minute.  
“I love you too, Ro. You sure you gotta go?”  
“I’m sure,” she answered when they pulled apart. “It’s already in motion.”  
Lamar shook his head, muttering under his breath. He looked across the room at Chop, watching the big dog’s stumpy tail wag at some unknown thing outside that got his attention. “... Take Chop with you.”  
Tommie frowned, trying to inconspicuously wipe forming tears out of her eyes. “You sure? Aren’t you his favorite?”  
“ _You’re_ his fuckin’ favorite,” Lamar said. “You know what food he eats?”  
“The one with the green label and the German shepherd on it,” Tommie said.  
“See? You even know everything about him,” Lamar nudged her, earning a small smile. “Keep ‘im. He’ll make sure you’re safe… Whereverthefuck you end up.”  
“I’ll take good care of him.”  
“I know. Take care of yourself too.”  
“... _Eh_.”  
“Fuck you mean ‘eh’!?”  
  
Tommie took Chop for a walk after Lamar had left. She needed to make sure he wouldn’t make a mess somewhere in the apartment while she was away.  
  
The next people on the list were Tracey and Franklin.  
  
The drive out to Vinewood Hills made her anxious. She didn’t even know if it was a good idea to tell Tracey the truth. She would tell Michael, and he would tell Lita. And Lita would try to stop her. And she doubted Franklin would be interested in her saying goodbye.  
But fuck that, she was gonna say it anyway. Might as well. She was already here.  
“So you’re going on a trip?” Tracey asked. “When? Where to?”  
“I was thinking Liberty City in a couple of days,” Tommie replied. “I’ve never been that far North before, and it’s getting closer to winter… I kinda wanna see snow. I’ve never seen snow before.”  
“Trust me, it’s not that great.”  
“Boooo, you took it for granted!” Tommie laughed.  
Franklin sat beside his wife. He hadn’t said much since the conversation started. Only small talk.  
“Ugh, I have to pee _again_ ,” Tracey groaned, getting up out of her seat. Around four months in. “I’ll be right back!”  
“Take your time, fam!” Tommie called after her. She waited until the sliding door closed behind her. Leaving her and Franklin alone in the backyard. “... I’m not going on a trip, y’know.”  
“I could tell,” Franklin replied. “You wouldn’t come all the way here just to say goodbye if you were gonna come back.”  
“... Yeah, pretty much,” she said. “Look… Keep that to yourself, okay? Not everyone needs to know I’m not coming back.”  
“Why are you goin', anyway?”  
“There’s nothing left for me here. I should’ve left right after Trevor died. There was nothing here then, and there’s… Still nothing…. So fuck it, right? Might as well start from the bottom. I dragged things out here for too long.”  
Franklin hesitated to ask about Trevor. But did. “... I used to think you didn’t really love him,” he said. “I thought it was like- a friends with benefits thing. He made you fuckin’ miserable, and Michael--”  
Tommie looked at him as soon as the other man’s name was mentioned. But he didn’t say anything more. “What _about_ Michael?” She asked pointedly. “What’d he do?”  
Franklin seemed to search for words. Was he about to lie to her?  
“Franklin, what did he fucking do?”  
He sighed and shook his head. “... I’m sorry I got weird on you when T died. I just… Felt bad about it. We were wrong and we couldn’t talk about it.”  
“What are you fucking saying?” She demanded rather than asked, eyes brimming with fresh tears. She didn’t like what this sounded like.  
“We thought he did something to you. We hadn’t seen you. You weren’t answering calls.”  
Tommie quickly got to her feet. “ _You_ fucking killed him.”  
Franklin said nothing, unable to meet her gaze. Guilty.  
Tommie had tried to speak again, instead letting slip a whimper, tears rolling down her face. Somewhere between pained and enraged.  
It took her a few seconds to regain a modicum of composure. “... If you and my friend weren’t getting ready to have a baby together, I’d fucking kill you. _R_ _ight here and now_ .”  
“I know.”  
So many thoughts raced through her head.  
_He was the one who told her about Trevor’s death._ __  
_She should have known back then._  
It had been two years. Almost to the day.  
“... You mentioned Michael.”  
Trevor crashed into the tanker because of me,” Franklin admitted. “But Michael took the shot.”  
“You backstabbing piece of shit-”  
“I’m back!” Tracey beamed, stepping out from inside the house, pulling her husband’s green hoodie tighter around herself against the slight chill of the autumn breeze.  
Tommie and Franklin had gone as quiet as a muted television, staring each other down as if seeing who would blink first.  
Or rather, who would be trying to kill the other first.  
“What’s.. Going on…?” Tracey asked, sensing the tension.  
“I was just saying goodbye,” Tommie put on a happy face for her friend in an instant. “I gotta get going. I have to stop by the Unicorn and tell Avalon how to run the ship without me. But first, I’m gonna stop by Rockford Hills and say hi to my mom and _Michael_. ”  
“But you just got here...” Tracey frowned.  
“I know, I’m so sorry-” Tommie replied, leaving where she stood to pull Tracey into a tight hug, having to lean over her protruding stomach a little bit. “I’ll text you later on, though. I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”  
“Uh- okay,” Tracey seemed taken aback by the rush to leave, but returned the hug nonetheless. “Have a safe trip.”  
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine!” Tommie assured. “Love you, see you guys soon.”  
She shot Franklin one last knowing glare, and left through the house.  
Never to see either of them again.  
  
At the end of the street, Tommie sat behind the wheel of her Fugitive, put in park, music blaring at top volume to conceal that she had screamed at the top of her lungs to let out the noise inside her head.  
It all made sense now.  
The secrets, the avoidance, the way Trevor died so _suddenly_ , why he sounded so panicked on the phone the night he died.  
He’d been betrayed. By people he’d stuck his neck out for and genuinely cared about.  
They may as well have taken ‘CUT HERE’ literally.  
She rubbed her thumb over where the similar tattoo was on her right forearm. Through the orange fabric of Simon’s hoodie.  
She had blamed herself for everything for two years.  
Two years of her life.  
Wasted on a lie.  
Because of Michael fucking De Santa.  
  
She was going to be leaving soon anyway.  
May as well use the disappearing act to her advantage.


	18. ...Comes Out In The Light

“Michael, I need your help!” Tommie put on her best crocodile tears over the phone, knowing how to play the role of a person in need.  
The man on the other side of the line had no idea what was coming. _“T? Where are you? What’s going on?”_  
T.  
She fucking hated when he called her T.  
“There’s this guy following me in his car!” She lied. “I’m freaking out, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what he wants, I can’t go home!”  
_“Yeah, don’t go to your apartment,”_ Michael said. Tommie could hear the jingling of his car keys on the other side of the phone. _“I’m on my way out, where are you heading?”_ __  
“C-Can I meet you behind the Vinewood sign? Call me when you’re there and I’ll head that way! I need you to hurry, I’m running low on gas!”  
_“I just need fifteen minutes,”_ Michael said. _"C_ _an you make 15 minutes?"_  
"I think I can," she replied, flipping off a car behind her at the stop sign. The driver was violently gesturing for her to move until she gave him the bird.  
After the call ended, Tommie dropped her phone into the passenger seat onto her file. Still parked at the end of the road. She opened up the glove compartment, seeing that she still kept a gun in there. Fully loaded magazine. Fifteen rounds.  
This one used to belong to Trevor. One of the many things left behind when he died.  
How appropriate to shoot Michael down with one of Trevor’s weapons, when he’d previously put down Trevor like a rabid dog.  
She wasn’t far from the sign herself.  
She would just take her time going up the road. Fifteen minutes.  
  
When she pulled up behind the sign, she saw Michael’s car parked on the side of the dirt road. He was on standby, waiting for her. She pulled off to the side and got out of her car, gun tucked into the back of her pants. Easily concealed under the baggy orange fabric on her torso.  
“Good, you’re here,” she said. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t come.”  
“Of course I’d come,” Michael frowned. “You said you needed help. Where’s...”  
The question died the moment she pulled the gun on him, aimed for his head.  
“What the fuck’s wrong with you, what are you doing?” He asked, sounding nervous. Hands going up above his shoulders.  
“Who _else_ knows?” She asked in a low, threatening tone. “You fucking killed him, who else knows about it? Does my mom know?”  
Michael, not one to tell the outright truth when it came to this sort of subject, tried to find a way out of this to save his own life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“ _STOP_ _FUCKING LYING!_ ” She demanded. “You could pull that shit on him, but I know better!” She took a step closer to him, and he could see that she was shaking. “You fucking killed him. He was your best friend... You looked _me_ in the fucking eyes for two years and said you were sorry for my loss.”  
“I don’t-”  
“I said stop trying to lie to me!” She snapped. “Does my mom know or not!?”  
“No,” he answered. “She doesn’t.”  
Her first instinct on handling this was to barge into her house and kill Michael then and there.  
But if Lita knew nothing about this, it would’ve looked worse than it actually was… And it was fucking bad. No matter how you look at it.  
“He threatened Lita,” Michael said. “And we thought he hurt you.”  
“ _Well what the fuck do you think_ _killing_ _him did!?_ ” She choked out, face red in effort to not burst into tears. She was still shaking, harder than before even. “Did you know that we were getting ready to leave San Andreas because we knew we couldn’t trust either of you anymore!? Did you know I was fucking pregnant!?”  
This was new information to him. “You were…?  
“I was,” she said. “And we were going to leave and make it fucking work… And you killed him and lied to my fucking face about it.” She blinked and felt water dripping down her face. Crying. Fuck. She felt ridiculous.  
With both hands trying to steady her aim at his face, she had to tilt her head to wipe her tears off against her sleeve.  
  
This wasn’t some bad ass who had killed people and was proud of her survival skills. This was a scared kid trying to retaliate, knowing it wasn’t truly getting even.  
  
“Who do you think you’re hurting if you kill me?” Michael asked. “Your mom. Does she deserve it?”  
“No,” Tommie sobbed. “But _you_ do.”  
Michael dropped his arms at his sides with a sigh and shook his head.  
“If you were serious about killing me, you’d have done it by now,” he said.  
“Test me, asshole!” She glared, seeming to steady a little bit. But only for a second before she started shaking again. She hated that he was correct: She would only be hurting Lita with this. That was what made her hesitate. Nothing more.  
She all but jumped out of her skin when Michael took a step closer.  
“Stop!” She ordered. And he paused, hands half-raising again. “I _will_ fucking shoot.”  
Michael kept his hands up, chest height, and took several more slow steps toward her. Stopping when the muzzle of the pistol was at his forehead. “You don’t seem too sure about it... Do it.”  
Tommie took one hand off of the gun, still holding it at his forehead but rubbing her eyes.  
They looked at each other for a long second, daring each other to move any more.  
And then she punched him hard in the face, making him step backward with his hands over where she’d hit. “Ohh, what the fuck was that for!? You already had a gun on me!”  
“Because you’re a fucking _asshole!_ ” She shouted. “And I fucking _hate_ you!” She re-engaged the safety on the gun and shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie.  
Michael recovered from the hit, the left side of his face reddened from it.  
“You got lucky!” She glared. “Both you _and_ Franklin, you fucking traitors! I've decided I’m done ruining everything for people; and if you weren’t married to two of the most important people in my life, I’d have fucking demolished _both_ you today!”  
“Well I’m fucking sorry, alright!?” He retorted, rubbing where the edge of her thumbnail had made a shallow scratch on his face. Bleeding a bit.  
“Take your apology and go fuck yourself with it! Trevor _loved_ you. And you pulled the fucking trigger and lied about it for two years.”  
“And you hate me, and won’t pull the trigger.”  
“Maybe I won’t,” she said. “But someday, someone else might. And I’m counting on it. I’m sure _a lot_ of people wanna kill Michael fucking Townley. And I hope it _hurts._ Whatever you did to Trev, you deserve done to you.”  
“And what are you gonna do?”  
“Don’t pretend to give a shit about me when you don't even care about your own kids,” Tommie replied, heading toward her car. “You won’t be seeing me again. Nobody will.”  
“What, you're just gonna disappear?”  
“Yup!” She paused at her car door. “New place, new identity. The works. You know how it goes.”  
He shook his head. “What are you gonna tell Lita?”  
“I'm not,” Tommie replied, pulling open the door to the Fugitive, one foot in the vehicle, the other on the ground. “ _You_ _are_. You're either gonna watch her cry every day about her only child disappearing forever… Or you can tell her what _you_ did to make me leave. Your choice, I guess, shows how much you _actually_ love her.”  
She got into the seat of her car, starting the engine, rolling up near him, and rolling down her window. “Hey, by the way, she’s gonna ask about that cut on your face now. I dunno what you’re gonna tell her, but… It’s like that old Johnny Cash song. ‘What’s down in the dark will be brought to the light’, so… Good luck on your upcoming second divorce when she figures it out.” She put her arm through the window, flipping her middle finger up at him. “See ‘ya never, _asshole_.”


	19. A Rose From The Saints

_San Andreas_   
_March, 2019._   
  
Perhaps things had moved too quickly… In some people’s opinions.   
But Avalon was happy. Sitting crooked on the wooden bench on the front porch, she breathed a contented sigh when she heard birds chirping in the distance.   
The land was beautiful and green. No nearby neighbors. But then again, Grapeseed was just kind of like that. This patch of land used to belong to some family locals knew as ‘The O’Neil Brothers’. Because they apparently had a meth lab set up in what _used to be_ a crappy ranch house that caught fire, it was a cheap purchase. Especially with how much money Avalon had sold her house in Los Santos for.   
She and Ace had no problems buying the whole ranch and building a new house on top of it.   
Early morning, sun still rising, Avalon was at peace. Moreso when one of the barn cats’ kittens decided to come pay her a visit. They were a brave little lot, knowing that the two ladies who lived in the house were friendly and sometimes had treats.   
Ace emerged from inside the house with two cups of coffee in hand to find Avalon having picked up the small tabby and put it in her lap.   
“I think it’s gonna rain today,” Avalon noted. “Forecast said so.”   
“With what clouds?” Ace chuckled, sitting beside her fianc é e and passing her mug.   
Avalon’s engagement ring glittered in the light. Now officially a part of their crew, Avalon had never felt happier.   
They’d be married by the end of the spring. And they planned on hyphenating their names.   
… Which had the added joke of making Avalon’s initials into A.C.E. as well.   
Ace and Avalon Charles-Evans. A small ceremony at the church in Great Chaparral with their friends-- and maybe Rackman, Lester could come too. If they were interested.   
Avalon set her coffee cup on the armrest of the bench, busying her hands by petting the purring kitten. It’d been four months since Tommie had taken the fall for them. They wouldn’t be where they were if it weren’t for her.   
“Where do you think she ended up?” Avalon wondered. Wistful. As grateful as they were, the knowledge that it’d cost Tommie what was left of her life in San Andreas was a heavy weight to bear.   
“Somewhere nice, I hope,” Ace replied, reaching over and rubbing her thumb over the kitten’s paw. It licked at her hand. “Rackman wouldn’t screw her over… I think.”   
“Guess we’ll never know,” Avalon said. “... She’d tell me to get over myself if she knew how much I miss her dramatic bullshit.”   
“ _I_ can give you some dramatic bullshit if you want,” Ace winked. “If it’ll help.”   
“Don’t even think about it,” Avalon chuckled. “Smart ass.”   
“The _smartest_ ass,” Ace nudged her. “I asked the most beautiful girl in the world to marry me.”   
Avalon couldn’t help but smile, as she always did. “I love you.”   
“I love you too.”   
  
_Upstate Liberty_   
_March, 2019._   
  
She knew there would be snow, but she didn’t expect there to be this much, or for this long.   
Wading through knee-deep snow, she made her way back up the trail to the house.   
A thud behind her made her turn.   
No one, nothing.   
Some snow had become too heavy for one of the pine trees and the branch sagged enough to let it fall to the ground. She even saw the branch, now missing the excess weight and some of its needles.   
She sighed and carried on back up the trail. The downside to living in the middle of nowhere was that the plows didn’t come through more than once a week. And they were fellow residents only, not state-run.   
She flipped through the envelopes in her hands as she walked up the hill.   
Auto-paid bills that the IAA had covered for her. Tiny prices, given the funding they had. As well as they payment she’d given them to make sure she was taken care of.   
Bills, bills, bills…   
A letter.   
The only person outside of the IAA who knew what address to find her at. And knew her new name.   
Rosa De Los Santos.   
She smiled thinly and tore the envelope open after walking up the freshly shoveled front steps of her home, tapping her boots against them to knock off the snow before she stepped inside.   
Chop looked up from where he laid in his bed. He didn’t seem to like the cold.   
Once it was warm enough outside, she’d let him run around the clearing. And maybe she’d get into gardening.   
While it was cold, she mostly kept indoors. She had a job at the general store in the small town down the road. Back as a cashier, after having been a millionaire.   
She didn’t drink much anymore either. To pass the time, she’d taken to writing.   
And was working on a novel.   
  
“‘I hope you’re not snowed out’,” she read aloud, dropping the other envelopes on the floor after shedding her boots and heavy coat. “Yeah, well… I definitely am.”   
  
‘ _I actually miss the snow in the winter. I hate shoveling but San Andreas weather makes every day feel the same. No wonder you were excited to leave. I’m gonna keep this letter kinda short. I’d rather talk to you in person. I’m planning on coming out soon since airfare was cheap. Maybe hang around for a while and skip the semester.’_   
  
“No, c’mon, don’t skip school just to see me...” She muttered, reading over the note some more. He talked about the Unicorn closing down. Amanda had gotten a job at the bar in Maisonette Los Santos. Said Avalon had given her the hookup since her friend was the owner. He asked Amanda about Tracey and Jimmy almost every day- just as small talk. Tracey was almost due. Having a girl. They were going to name her Naomi. Jimmy was in college. Finally having gotten student loans approved. He was getting into graphic design, so he could work on video game design. He had walked by her old home a few times. Seen Lita and Michael. Michael had apparently kept up the charade of not knowing why Tommie had disappeared. Lita seemed… Less happy. But they were still married. So maybe she was happy _enough_.   
Tommie just knew that whatever happened between them, wasn’t going to be her fault.   
The silence and isolation of living in the woods had given her time to reflect.   
And learn to stop blaming herself for everything that ever went wrong.   
She lived an honest life now.   
Everyone in town knew her as Rosa, the shop girl who wore long sleeves to cover up her tattoos while she was at work. Always wearing the orange hoodie. Always asking people how their day was when she rung up their purchases. They didn’t know much about her beyond the surface.   
And she wanted to keep it that way.   
  
Sitting on the couch beside Chop, Rosa watched a movie on the small flat screen to pass the time. She’d given up her old phone, all social media. Life was simple. Easy.   
The credits rolled at the end of the movie, and she felt disgust when she saw ‘PRODUCED BY MICHAEL DE SANTA’ on the screen. Dickhead.   
She flipped channels immediately and groaned.   
Chop looked over at her, and she gave him an apologetic look for bothering him. “Oh, sorry, did I throw off your zen?”   
Chop snorted in reply.   
“That’s gross,” she muttered, patting the top of his head. “You’re gross.”   
He moved closer to her when she stopped petting him, demanding more attention.   
A knock on the door made him stand up on the couch. Pointed toward the door.   
He immediately began barking, stepping over Rosa’s lap to jump down from the far end of the couch and bolt toward the door.   
“Jesus, Chop, you stepped on my stomach!” Rosa said, rubbing a new sore spot on her middle where the heavy rottweiler had put his full weight on. She got up off of the couch and strode to the door. “Choooop, shutupalready!” She nudged him away from the door with her leg, trying to ignore his prolonged barking.   
She cracked open the door.   
And found Simon- to her surprise, holding a dozen roses.   
He mentioned he’d come, but didn’t say when.   
"Holy shit," she gasped.  
“Remember when you said no one ever brought you flowers?”


End file.
